Page 5 of The Mistress of All & Torn

“There are signed papers for everything. Lady Sedgewick’s executor and the trustees requested papers for each arrangement. The countess and her late husband wished to be certain of the future of their heritage. And still—they were deceived as utterly as me—a silly, ignorant girl from Hertfordshire.”

“I shall not even pretend to understand your ordeal. If I had known...If I had behaved differently...There is little I can do now...Please be confident that you are not alone any longer and you will benefit from everything that is rightfully yours. Of course, if there is an heir, either son or daughter, matters will be different,” he said, watching her meaningfully.

She hesitated, and even under the black veil, he could see her paleness. She moved her hands in his palms but did not withdraw them.

“There will be no heir,” she whispered. “The marriage was never consummated. But no one else is aware of this aspect.”

He nodded and immediately averted his eyes, tormented by feelings he tried to reject as being inappropriate, even forbidden. Her own turmoil at that revelation was equally overwhelming.

“I will read the available papers and I will demand to see all the others,” he repeated, mumbling, “You are not alone, Lady Barrington. I mean, Miss Bennet. You should not doubt the love and the protection of your friends and family.”

She smiled at last. “Your promise is the comfort I need, Mr. Darcy. I will not thank you again, as the words are nowhere near enough to express my gratitude.”

“If you wish to express your gratitude, please promise me you will sleep, as soon as we return today. You must rest, and allow us to take care of the rest.”

“I promise you that I will try,” she smiled bitterly. “Perhaps sleep will take pity on me once we are done with this. Now let us leave—we cannot afford to be late. The trustees will be there too. We must clarify the legal issues with no further delay. We are all in agreement on this at least, including Lord Barrington’s mother.”

∞∞∞

The party left Park Lane in two carriages, around eleven o'clock in the morning, as they were expected to reach their destination no later than one hour after midday.

In the first carriage were Elizabeth, Jane, Charles Bingley and Mrs. Gardiner. In the second carriage, following them, were Mr. Darcy and Mr. Gardiner.

The horses were running at a steady pace. Charles Bingley took Jane’s hand and she smiled at him. Mrs. Gardiner enveloped them in a comforting, endearing gaze. They were travelling to the estate that had been Elizabeth’s residence for the last few weeks, where her fate had been sealed and where her ordeal unfolded day by day. The house which had hosted so much suffering that it should have been torn down brick by brick.

The place where Bingley, her uncle Gardiner, and Darcy had finally discovered her.

The carriage’s slow movements made Elizabeth dizzy and she closed her eyes, leaning her head against the window. She heard some whispers, but her mind was too blurry to understand them. She felt the sunshine warming her face and opened her eyes for an instant. It was a warm, bright day—very similar to the one when she had arrived in London from Kent, almost four months ago.

Chapter 2

London, end of April, 1812

“Good gracious!” cried Maria, as the carriage moved off, “it seems but a day or two since we first came! And yet how many things have happened!”

“A great many indeed,” Elizabeth replied, with a sigh.

“We have dined nine times at Rosings, besides drinking tea there twice! How much I shall have to tell!”

“And how much I shall have to conceal,” Elizabeth whispered to herself. Mr. Darcy’s proposal was still difficult to believe and, if not for the letter that she kept in her reticule and had read countless times, she would still consider it a figment of her imagination. Since that day, Elizabeth had barely found peace and rest. She did not regret rejecting him. Her feelings for him, his manners, his past actions as well as his way of addressing her and his offensive judgement of her family, his coldness in admitting how he had separated Bingley from Jane—all those things induced her to refuse any connection with him.

She was astounded and doubtful that he had loved her all those months, that he had declared his ardent love and admiration and that he was willing to marry her, despite all her family’s flaws that he had so diligently counted.

But she did regret profoundly her accusations, her offensive words, and most of all, her passionate defence of Mr. Wickham. Wickham the scoundrel—she had repeated many times since that day. The man who had deceived her with a smile and some charming manners, well studied and used on other silly women—just like her.

Her prejudice against Darcy had made her blind to Wickham’s improper behaviour, hidden behind his false amiability. A man who narrated private stories of his past to a new acquaintance was not to be so readily trusted. But she had confided in him from the first moment, flattered by his attention and offended by Darcy’s pride. And she had to pay the price for her foolishness.

“I wonder if we will see Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam ever again,” Maria continued.

Elizabeth felt her face colouring as she answered. “I very much doubt it. But you might if you happen to be in Kent at the same time with them again. The colonel told me that they usually visit Lady Catherine before Easter, every year.”

“The colonel is such a pleasant gentleman! So friendly! Not at all frightening like Mr. Darcy. One could hardly say they are relatives.”

“Indeed, they are very different,” Elizabeth agreed.

“Mr. Darcy is very severe and critical all the time, but the colonel seemed very partial to you,” Maria added and Elizabeth smiled again. ‘How wrong things can appear from afar,’ she mused, considering that she had not been any wiser than Maria in judging Mr. Darcy.

“Papa said he will come to fetch me the day after tomorrow. I wonder why he and Mr. Bennet are coming to town?” Maria asked.