Page 13 of Pemberley's Imposter
“I saw it with my own eyes. They were embracing. The colonel was kissing her neck while his hands were roaming—” Bile rose in his throat, and he could not continue.
Bingley rose abruptly to pace back and forth in front of the desk. His hand ran through his hair, making it stand on end, before he slumped back into the chair with a dejected sigh.
“She tried to convince me that she had believed it was me, but the colonel left me in no doubt, should my eyes have betrayed me.” Darcy explained further to make sure Bingley understood completely.
“But where can she be? She visited Longbourn at Christmas. I thought she left to reunite with you in London. Oh, my Lord, where can she have gone? If she left in January… She is not with her Phillips nor her Gardiner relations. As far as I know, they have no other kin in any other part of the country except for Mr Collins. She could not possibly be there. It is too close to the formidable Lady Catherine, and Mr Collins would never deign to do anything that might displease his patroness. I wonder how you can live with yourself, Darcy.”
Darcy chose not to dignify the accusatory statement with an answer.
Bingley sent him one last glare before he rose from his perched position on the chair and strode out of the study. He did not hear Darcy mutter that he lived very well without any knowledge of his wife’s location—a lie he was trying to convince himself was the truth.
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The news Bingley brought home created a torrent of tears from his wife.
“I should have realised something was amiss,” Bingley berated himself. “I thought that Darcy’s gaunt-looking features and Elizabeth’s vague letters were trying to conceal Darcy’s ailment.” Why they would choose to hide the fact quite escapedhim. “The man is clearly not ill but must be suffering from a lack of appetite due to his guilty conscience.”
Intent on getting to the bottom of the conundrum, Bingley rode to Longbourn the next morning to demand answers from Mr Bennet, who surely must know.
Mr Bennet did know. The story brought him no peace, and Bingley rode hard back to his wife in London. He arrived late in the afternoon, completely exhausted. Mrs Bingley responded as strongly as he had feared, refusing to believe her sister had acted so despicably while blaming herself for not noticing the tell-tale signs in her letters that something was amiss. There was only one thing to do.
The Gardiners knew where Elizabeth lived. Although they had never been there to visit, they were sending the letters Jane added to her father’s notes to Elizabeth’s current location. Bingley supposed the ones his wife had sent to Pemberley had been burnt.
With the aid of the Gardiners, the Bingleys set out for the village of Little Kings Hill, thirty-three miles from London, twenty-three miles from Meryton. She was so close, yet no one had visited her for the past six months, not even her father.
Even more concerning was the amount Mr Bennet had afforded his favourite child; seventy pounds per annum was not much to live on for a gentleman’s daughter. He could understand Bennet, with his income of two thousand pounds a year, could not spare any more after settling a hundred pounds annually on Mrs Wickham. But Bingley’s sister had gowns that cost more than Elizabeth had at her disposal for a twelvemonth. It was safe to say that Mr and Mrs Bingley were both appalled, shaken, and on their way to rescue their sister.
The Bingleys were forced to walk the last half a mile since Elizabeth’s modest cottage was not accessible by carriage. It was left with their driver by the side of the road while they set out on foot the last stretch of the track.
Elizabeth was on her knees, weeding her vegetable garden. She was so immersed in her task that she did not notice their soft footsteps on the grassy path. She was humming softly to the tune of an old Scottish folk song, wearing a thin summer gown with her hair hanging down her back. Every so often her hand would come up to brush away wayward locks from her face. Jane wanted to run to her sister, but Bingley stayed her with a comforting hand on her arm. Jane was about to call out to her, but the name must have stuck in her throat when Elizabeth rose from the ground with difficulty. The reason became obvious when she turned towards them. Aside from the dirty hem, Elizabeth’s gown was an ill-fitted, reworked one she had worn at Longbourn, now stretched uncomfortably over her burgeoning middle.
Elizabeth’s hands flew to her chest whilst sheer horror suffused her countenance. Wide-eyed, her gaze flickered around them, and she even rose on her toes so as to see past them. When she did not find what she was looking for, she let her hands fall back to her sides, schooled her features, and walked calmly towards her visitors.
“Jane,” she whispered, uncertainty making her voice quiver.
Jane freed herself from Bingley’s loose hold and flew towards Elizabeth, who opened her arms in welcome. The sisters embraced and stood, swaying from side to side, with tears running down their cheeks.
“I have missed you so much, Jane, but please tell me, have you come alone?”
“No, our coachman and a footman are standing guard by the carriage.”
“No one else?”
“No, you need not fear we brought your husband. He is a fool for giving credit to his cousin over his wife, but I cannot believe he is an evil man at heart.”
“If I am to be honest, neither can I. But do you not see? If the babe is a boy, Mr Darcy will take him away from me. He needs an heir for Pemberley’s sake, and he cannot beget another legitimate child for as long as I live. I cannot allow him to take him. I pray for a girl. You must promise me to never tell. Please, please, please…”
Elizabeth was working herself into a fit equal to one of her mother’s. Bingley jumped into the conversation to rescue the situation before it worsened.
“I solemnly promise you have nothing to fear from us, Elizabeth.”
“Charles and I would never allow it,” Jane said with conviction. “A man who does not even know where his own wife is residing cannot be responsible for a child,” she concluded firmly.
Elizabeth chuckled lightly. “That is the most unforgiving speech I have ever heard coming from your mouth. It even beats the pernicious sisters’ comments. Please, come inside and let me wash the dirt off my hands. Oh dear, I have left filthy hand marks on your beautiful gown! We shall have to let it dry before attempting to brush it off. Any efforts at this point will surely smear them.”
Elizabeth and Jane linked arms and proceeded towards her tiny abode while Bingley trailed behind.
“It is of no consequence, Lizzy. It is just a dress. Oh, I almost forgot. There is another incentive to keep quiet. I would not like my son or daughter to be deprived of a cousin.”
