Page 7 of A Promise Made

Lydia looked at Kitty as if her older sister had struck her, and Lizzy felt unexpected empathy for her youngest sister. Until she was seven or eight years old, Lydia had claimed to have a friend who was invisible to everyone else. Of course, now that she was older, she never talked about this friend, this Tommy, anymore. It was mean of Kitty to tease her.

Lizzy approached Lydia and gave her a hug. “When you said you did not do it,” Lizzy said gently, “did you mean you did not intend to do it? That it was an accident and that you are sorry?”

“Yes.” Lydia would not meet her eyes. “I just wanted to play….”

It was no doubt tough to be the very youngest. Lydia was a bit of a wild child, moving too swiftly and being too vigorous to be confined in a parlour. But Lizzy had had a few problems with vases, herself, when she was younger.

Mama said, “Back to the pianoforte, Lizzy,” and she murmured assurances to Lydia that everyone understood about accidents.

Lizzy hurried back to the instrument and skipped over the rest of her scales and finger exercises, granting herself this indulgence on the basis that she had tried to be helpful and kind with her most trying sister.

Then she hurried through pieces by Dussek and Pleyel, making a few more mistakes than usual in her eagerness to seek out the portrait of her grandparents. It was late morning when she finally was able to climb up to the attic, her candle held aloft.

She believed she knew where to look for the portrait, but a trunk and some other items had been stored between the door and her goal. Lizzy tried to re-establish the pathway that had once existed by carefully moving a small table. There was still not enough room, so she tried to lift the trunk.

It was too heavy. She tried to tug it by its handle, and she found it still immovable. Finally, she used both hands to shove the trunk.

The trunk slammed into her toes. She managed to swallow most of her outcry, but she hopped several times in pain before worrying that someone would hear her. She tentatively put her full weight on her foot again.

The trunk had moved enough out of the way that Lizzy could walk around it. She blinked back her tears, picked up her candle again, and hobbled to the far end of the attic.

She inspected each framed painting before she found the one she sought, and she carefully put her candle down on an old wardrobe before using both hands to lift the portrait into the light.

Her grandmother looked quite young standing next to her older husband, but neither of them had Mr Darcy’s long, straight nose, slightly dimpled chin, dark curly hair, perfectly shaped jawline…. She had always regarded Mr Darcy as handsome, and in this portrait her grandparents looked quite handsome, as well, but neither of her ancestors resembled Mr Darcy.

“Miss Elizabeth?”

She almost squealed in her surprise, feeling that her thoughts had somehow summoned the gentleman to the attic. Clearly, that idea was absurd.

Carefully placing the portrait back where she had found it, Lizzy brushed off her hands, fetched her candle, and turned towards him. “Mr Darcy,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

“Pardon me for startling you. Your father sent me up to check if some large creature had got in. He heard sounds….”

“Well, I suppose I am a large creature,” she reasoned. She smiled to see the man with the noble nose and perfect jawline blush yet again.

“A large creature with dusty skirts,” he murmured.

She used her free hand to brush herself off as well as possible.

He said, “I suppose I shall leave you to your explorations, but I would not be a gentleman if I did not ask if there was anything you needed reached or moved or carried, or if I could help you in any way.”

“No, actually, I am done,” she said. She took a step, winced with pain, and remembered that she could not walk smoothly at the moment.

“You are injured. Do you need any assistance going down the stairs?”

“I am well. Do not trouble yourself, sir.”

He waited. She waved him on, but he said, “After you, Miss Elizabeth,” so she had to embarrass herself by hobbling out of the attic and down the stairs under his full view.

He did not say anything more, however, and she escaped into her bedchamber to inspect her toe and change her gown.

He was not her half brother, she was certain. Thank goodness! It was awful to think that her father had…. Well, it was not a comfortable thought, and she banished it forevermore.

Chapter Seven

Darcy and Mr Bennet returned from a six-mile ride to assess the progress on the conversion of the drainage system. Feeling flushed with both exercise and success—the clerk of works reported that they were actually ahead of schedule—they entered Mr Bennet’s study….

…and discovered a young lady bent over the desk, tying up a small packet of papers with a red ribbon.