“Why, that of a woman who has found her rightful place,” Mrs. Bingley replied smoothly. “One who understands the responsibilities that accompany elevated station.”
Lydia, who had been examining ribbons with the focused attention of a cat stalking prey, looked up with her usual directness. “But Lizzy’s station hasn’t changed, has it? She’s still the same Lizzy, only with a different name. Though I suppose being an heiress must be vastly more comfortable than being merely a gentleman’s daughter.”
“Names can matter a great deal,” Mrs. Bingley explained, “as can the connections that accompany them. The Darcy family has been most… generous in their treatment of certain individuals over the years.”
Something in the older woman’s tone made Elizabeth’s attention sharpen. “Generous in what manner?”
“Oh, in various ways.” Mrs. Bingley settled herself in a chair positioned to command the room’s attention. “My dear Benjamin often remarked on the Darcy family’s sense of duty toward those connected to past tragedies. Quite admirable, really.”
Elizabeth studied Mrs. Bingley’s composed features, sensing concealed knowledge behind her careful words. “You seem well-informed about the family’s affairs, Mrs. Bingley. Might I ask the specifics on their admirable sense of duty?”
“Most certainly.” Mrs. Bingley’s expression grew thoughtful. “Although one always wondered about certain details. The official reports seemed rather… incomplete.”
“Incomplete in what sense?” Elizabeth pressed, ignoring Caroline’s attempt to redirect attention to costume selection.
“Well, for instance, the matter of dear little Elizabeth Rose. Theynever found her body, you know. Some of us wondered if perhaps…” Mrs. Bingley let the implication hang delicately in the air.
“If perhaps she had survived?” Elizabeth’s heart hammered, though she kept her voice steady.
“It seemed possible. After all, Mrs. Wickham was quite devoted to the child. And the Darcy family showed such particular concern for her welfare in subsequent years.”
“What sort of concern?” Elizabeth’s breath caught sharply.
“Oh, various kindnesses. Estate ledgers can be quite revealing about such matters—all those payments to Rose Cottage over the years. Such a generous provision for a simple tenant.” Mrs. Bingley’s smile grew more pointed. “One wondered what inspired such… loyalty.”
“Payments?” Elizabeth squeaked, hoping her voice sounded steadier than she felt.
“Indeed. Quite substantial ones, from what Benjamin understood. Though I suppose William Darcy felt an obligation to provide for Mrs. Wickham because of her husband’s faithful service.” Mrs. Bingley’s tone suggested she found this explanation less than convincing.
Elizabeth’s thoughts whirled. If William Darcy had been making payments to Martha Wickham, what did that suggest about his knowledge of Elizabeth’s survival? Had he known all along that his brother’s daughter lived? Perhaps he’d arranged for Martha to take Elizabeth to Longbourn. After all, Mrs. Winters reported a fancy carriage departing with loaded trunks.
“And these payments continued after Mr. William Darcy’s death?” Elizabeth asked, struggling to maintain her own composure.
“I believe they did, though to what extent I do not know.” Mrs. Bingley leaned closer, lowering her voice confidentially. “One does wonder why Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy was so accommodating about Mrs. Wickham’s tenancy all these years, only to evict her now. Quite the coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”
Elizabeth felt as though the floor haddropped away beneath her feet. If Mrs. Bingley’s implications were true, if Darcy had known about these payments—had continued them himself—while pretending to doubt her identity…
“Ladies, you simply must see this emerald silk!” Caroline’s voice cut through Elizabeth’s tumultuous thoughts. “I believe it could be adapted perfectly for Diana’s hunting costume.”
“Green would not do at all,” Mrs. Bennet objected. “Lizzy has always looked best in blues and purples. Royal colors for a future mistress of Pemberley!”
“Mama, please,” Elizabeth said automatically, her mind still reeling. “Nothing has been determined regarding my claim.”
“Nonsense! With proper witnesses, the matter will be settled immediately.” Mrs. Bennet turned expectantly to Mrs. Bingley. “You and Mr. Bingley will testify to Lizzy’s identity, will you not? As old family friends, your word would carry such weight!”
“My husband has, unfortunately, passed away. However, I would certainly be willing to provide more… reliable testimony than Mrs. Wickham’s,” Mrs. Bingley agreed smoothly. “Naturally, we would wish to be certain of the facts before making such declarations.”
The emphasis was subtle but unmistakable. There would be a price for her support—likely Charles’s continued pursuit of Elizabeth, forgetting about his earlier preference for Jane.
“How generous,” Elizabeth replied, unable to keep a hint of irony from her voice. “Though one wonders why such testimony was not offered earlier, when it might have spared considerable confusion.”
Mrs. Bingley’s smile remained unchanged. “Timing is everything in such delicate matters, my dear. One must be certain before proceeding.”
“The white silk would be perfect,” Caroline suggested in an effort to move away from her mother’s insinuations. “With a silver belt and these pearl accessories, it would be stunning.”
Elizabeth hardly heard her mother and sister engaging with Caroline about their possible costumes. Her entire attention was focused on Mrs. Bingley, who knew far more than she was openlystating. The carefully weighted phrases, the deliberate pauses—it was a dance of hints and evasions designed to communicate without committing.
If William Darcy had indeed paid Martha Wickham to keep Elizabeth’s survival quiet, it would explain so much: Martha’s long residence at Rose Cottage, her sudden eviction now that she had broken her silence, and the Bingleys’ timely appearance in Hertfordshire. A cold knot formed in Elizabeth’s stomach.
