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Elizabeth waited until the worst of the sobs had lessened before she spoke, in as gentle a voice as she could manage, to ensure she would be heard over the lady’s agitation. “Miss de Bourgh, you cannot imagine that your uncle the earl, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Darcy would ever allow you to be threatened by the repugnant George Wickham, do you? They never would, I am certain.”
“I went with him! Willingly!”
“Several years ago, you made an error in judgment. You are still a precious member of the family, dear. They would all protect you with their lives, if necessary. It will not be necessary. Darcy has seen him arrested for his many crimes, and he was transported. Wickham has other fish to fry now, if he is even still alive.”
Miss de Bourgh shook her head, as if she could scarcely believe this to be true. It might take some time before she could disregard the past, but Elizabeth and Darcy would work on that. Still, there was one other point she must understand.
“Darcy would never break our engagement because he loves me. The reason I agreed to marry him is that I love him. Our betrothal is entirely unconnected to your painful experiences of the past. His admiration began, he said, at Netherfield Park months ago, when he believed I was much too young to be the Elizabeth Bennet who had once helped you with hackney-coach fare.”
“How can that be?” She gazed at Elizabeth with reddened eyes. “Love? Are you sure?”
Elizabeth smiled. “Believe me, it took Darcy by surprise as well. In fact, he spent so much time during his marriage proposal informing me of all the reasons why he should not love me, that I told him he was the last man on Earth whom I ever would marry.”
Miss de Bourgh’s eyes widened. “You refused him? Impossible!”
Evidently, this rejection was not as easily believed as the notion that Elizabeth was an extortioner.
“Quite possible. I ask you not to share this with anyone else; my family does not know.”
“I would not. No one would believe me if I did.”
Elizabeth decided to overlook that statement. “Fortunately, I had additional opportunities to come to know him, and discovered that he was not quite so ill-mannered as I originally believed.”
“Darcy has always had the most perfect manners!” she argued.
Elizabeth arched her eyebrows. It did not seem, to her, as if the de Bourghs had a solid understanding of the nature and meaning of ‘perfect manners’. “You may speak to him about it.”
Miss de Bourgh straightened. “Yes. That is necessary. Mrs Reynolds said he was away. When will he return?”
“I do not expect him before tomorrow. He went to Derby to arrange the settlement.”
Her visitor slumped a little.
“In the meantime, you have travelled far, and must be exhausted. Might we prepare a room for you, and have some refreshment brought?”
Miss de Bourgh seemed to cheer a little at this prospect; Elizabeth pulled the bell-rope, and, as she had suspected, Mrs Reynolds appeared nearly instantly. “Miss de Bourgh will be remaining at Pemberley for the present. Will you see to a room and refreshments for her, and for her servants?”
“I did not bring any servants,” Miss de Bourgh interrupted, to Elizabeth’s astonishment. “Only my coachman.”
Does her family even know where she has gone?
Mrs Reynolds had obviously already realised the situation was a unique one; no wonder she was concerned! “Yes, ma’am. Please follow me, miss. The yellow bedchamber has already been prepared for you.”
Almost meekly, Miss de Bourgh followed the housekeeper out.
The yellow bedchamber, if Elizabeth recalled correctly, was the centrepiece of a large suite of rooms in the north wing—far from the principal apartments where Darcy’s rooms were, and even farther from the east wing, where all the Bennets were staying. Either Mrs Reynolds had carefully isolated their visitor, or this was her usual room when at Pemberley. Elizabeth could not help wondering which, and how much of a disruption to their wedding plans this singular guest might be.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
THE TIES THAT BIND
Elizabeth rose much earlier than usual, after a restless night; Stretton entered moments later, with a chocolate-pot ready to be poured.
“Oh, Stretton, how did you know I would want this so early?”
“It is my duty, ma’am, to notice things. You were distracted last evening—I could tell something was on your mind. I thought it possible you might not sleep as easily as usual, so I wanted to be ready.”
Elizabeth sipped at the thick, rich chocolate, prepared just the way she liked it. Stretton was the perfect lady’s maid, always trying to remain a step ahead of Elizabeth’s wants and needs. “I thank you for it,” she said, considering her words carefully. Stretton was a proud woman, a hard worker, efficient and intelligent, but there was something just a little bit fragile about her. She was running a race that no one else could see, figuratively, at least, and constantly peering over her shoulder to see if she was falling behind. “I want you to know that I am happy, very happy with all you have done for me.”
