Page 148 of The Governess of My Heart
“But why did she not communicate the same to your father?” Darcy asked and bit his lips, seeing the flash of anger on Elizabeth’s face.
“I meant Lord Anderson,” he corrected himself.
“I do not know. Sometimes, I don’t know whether all this is real or I am in a nightmare.”
Darcy was silent; he was very worried about her. Ever since he discovered that she had almost ended her life on the cliff when they first met, he could not bear the thought of losing her.
“Fitzwilliam?” she called out to him.
“Yes, sorry, I was thinking about something.”
“I must speak with Lady Martha now.”
“Don’t you want Lord Anderson to be present? We can request him to join us.”
Elizabeth was not ready to see him, but she had no choice but to agree.
Lady Martha finally joined them.
“I have sent for him. I understand how tormenting it must have been to read through the letters. How are you feeling?” Lady Martha asked as she sat down beside Elizabeth.
“Not as tormented as the discussion I am to have now,” Elizabeth replied.
Darcy quickly stated Elizabeth’s observation about the letters to Lady Martha.
“Well, it is not uncommon for siblings to have similar handwriting. Fitzwilliam, if I am not mistaken, your mother and aunt in Kent had the same hand; I have seen some of her letters and mentioned the same to Anne.”
Darcy nodded in agreement.
“But what felt strange to me is the sudden shift in the emotions of the person who wrote these; I am referring to theones she wrote from London. How could such deep love change into hate?”
“I agree with you on that; I am still unsure if someone forced her,” Elizabeth stated.
Just then, Lord Anderson entered the room, and Elizabeth stood upon his arrival. Darcy held her hand, sensing her temperament. As much as she tried, she could not look away from him and his piercing gaze.
As for Lord Anderson, he understood that Elizabeth had read the letters, and he was exhausted from the discussion with his wife some time ago and had no energy left in him for another wretched conversation about the past. He had entered the library with irritation, knowing very well that Elizabeth would not agree to his explanations, even though the letters supported his actions. Lord Anderson resolved to keep the discussion short and not become emotional, but the moment he set eyes on her, his entire resolve melted away. He had last seen her storm out of the library the previous night, and now she stood before him, her face troubled but eyes expressing anger. The faint resemblance he had seen initially between Sarah and her became more distinct to him now; everything he had seen in Sarah years ago stood before him in the form of his daughter, Elizabeth.
He wanted to ask her how she felt but knew she would hate such civilities from him.
The tension in the room consumed each of them, and Lord Anderson finally sat beside his sister. Elizabeth could not bear seeing him, but Darcy squeezed her hand, and she felt grateful for his presence. Understanding no one was willing to speak, Lady Martha broke the silence.
“Elizabeth has read the letters, and she doubts the authenticity of the ones written after you married Sarah,” Lady Martha said.
“What?” cried Lord Anderson.
“Yes! Something is not right about the contents of the letters after your marriage,” Darcy added.
“Are you stating that someone forged them?”
“We cannot say for sure. But don’t you feel it is strange that suddenly she wanted to end the relationship?”
“I did feel it was strange, and I wrote to her asking for an explanation. That is when she stated that she was ashamed of the marriage with me and wanted money to end the relationship. You can read the last few letters; she clearly stated that she wanted to marry Thomas Bennet,” Lord Anderson said.
“You may not have realized it then, but can you not understand that these letters were written a few months after your marriage, which means she was pregnant with me? Don’t you find it odd that she wrote to you without informing you of her condition? I thought you would be sensible enough, at least now, to understand this,” Elizabeth said bluntly, looking at Lord Anderson with irritation.
She could see him struggle to respond.
“I do not doubt that she wrote all these letters; there are details no one else could know, and her writing is not forged. You may question my lack of sense, young lady, but now and back then, I do not understand why your mother lacked it. Why was she not sensible enough to disclose her condition? She kept me in the dark about her pregnancy.”
