Mary stared at Elizabeth for half a minute. “You did that on purpose.”
“I have no notion what you mean,” Elizabeth replied primly. “But there is no time to discuss the whole.”
They went across to Rosings Park, with quite a cheerful air. Mr. Collins gave a delightful speech about how great Lady Catherine’s respect for him was, and how that had been proven by her giving them a new invitation to dine so soon after the previous one.
From within Elizabeth glowed. She had told Darcy, and he barely cared.
Into the house, over the black and white marble entry hall, up the stairs with the rich bannisters, down the corridor and past the staring family portraits of the gallery. Elizabeth was delighted by the whole house. And then the drawing room.
The familiarity ofonevisit was not quite enough for Elizabeth to have lost all interest in looking about her as their feet echoed.
Opened door.
Butler’s announcement of their names.
Elizabeth’s eyes looked around for Darcy.
A completely bald man who looked to be in his fifties sat next to Lady Catherine. The left side of his face was a little fallen in, in the way of those who had only half recovered from an attack of apoplexy. But his eyes were sharp and alert.
He stared at her with a hunger.
The world froze when Elizabeth saw him. Motes of dust caught in the afternoon light. The draft caused by the opening of the door and Miss de Bourgh’s fire in the grate. Breathing.
Mr. Darcy frowned and looked between her and the man. Viscount Hartley also frowned at the tableau, but he appeared confused, while Elizabeth felt as though Darcy thought he understood.
He was the man who had beaten her as a child.
The tightness in her chest relaxed a little at seeing Darcy’s attention to her. Part of her was convinced that nothing really bad could happen to her while he was in the room. She at last heard Lady Cathreine ordering her to sit in the chair directly across fromthat man. She thought the order had been given several times already.
With an unsteady step she sat, not five feet from him. Then she moved the chair to the side until she sat closer to Darcy thanhim.
Flickers went through her memory.
He had been familiar. He had often been there. That beating was not the only time she had seen him. She had always been frightened of him. But at times she had loved him as well.
The solution to the mystery seemed obvious, yet her mind refused tosayit.
The gentleman spoke with slight slur due to the weakness in the left side of his mouth, “I am astonished. Lady Catherine, I confess it. I had not expected this. Not even after all you had said—from her appearance there is little question.”
Though he spoke to Lady Catherine his eyes did not leave Elizabeth’s.
Why? Lord, heavens.Why!
Speech was impossible for her. As was looking away from him, even towards Mr. Darcy.
“I ought to make my own examination,” the man said, “though my heart already knows. Elizabeth, tell me about when Mr. Bennet took you. What happened?”
At his use of her name, ice swept through Elizabeth’s chest. It was a familiar feeling, though she had barely any memory of the familiarity. No, she did. He would use that tone. He always used that tone when she had run about too freely or loudly.
And she would freeze. She could not explain. And then he would—
“Speak. Explain yourself. Now.” That tone of anger from him. It brought fear of punishment. She had to talk, or else he would progress to anger.
“It was raining,” Elizabeth stuttered out. “Mama was so hot. I remember a carriage ride. Very long. It was with other people. Strangers. Mama gripped my hand. She became very sick. She threw up in the carriage...it was a stagecoach; I realize that now. Took a room in the inn. Or maybe it was...there was a man who gave her something to drink. To reduce pain. And then...we slept together in the same bed that night. Mr. Bennet was there the next day. Mama told me he was kind. That he would take care of me. She was so sick. I was so scared. But I did not know that she would die. I did not know. And then...she was even hotter. She screamed and raved. Then she convulsed, shaking terribly. And then...then she was still. She didn’t move. I finally touched her. She was still warm. And—”
Elizabeth could not speak more. She could not see for a time with the tears of memory blinding her.
“All this time.” The gentleman smiled with the strong side of his face. “She has been dead all this time—my rage. My fear that I would become a murderer in truth if I ever knew where she was. And the Lord had killed her, without my efforts. The Almighty has been kind! There was balm in Gilead. The Lord struck down the adulterer, and he has restored my daughter to me.”
