Mr. Darcy's Secret (9 page)

Elizabeth hastened to the library for inspiration as soon as she could. There were a couple of hours before dinner and everyone had retired to their rooms to get ready. She sat down at a table where a sheaf of paper and ink were set out ready to accomplish such a task. Making up her own charade had been fun, but trying to think of one suitable for Mrs Bennet was a little more difficult and the constraint on time was having the very worst effect. Her mind seemed blank and she was increasingly unable to concentrate. Lizzy got up to peruse the books on the shelves. Hundreds of leather bound titles lined the room, each one proclaiming its title in gilt letters. She would have loved to spend the time with a selection of books indulging her passion for reading, but she quickly selected an old Shakespearean volume, thinking that here she might be rewarded with the stimulation that was immediately required. However, she was disappointed; no matter how hard she tried, nothing would come despite a promising array of characters, situations, and plots. The book went back on the shelf, but realising straight away that it would not fit back comfortably into the space and that something behind was preventing its return, she took it out again to investigate. Whatever was proving to be an obstruction was out of her line of vision on the high shelf and it was necessary to stand on tiptoe so that she could explore the space with her fingers. What felt like another book had fallen down and wedged itself at the back of the shelf. Elizabeth could only just grasp the volume with her thumb and forefinger, and she pulled hard knowing that if this attempt failed she would have to fetch out the library steps. Her efforts were only partly successful, for after refusing to budge for what seemed like an age, the book came out all of a sudden with such a force that she dropped it, scattering pages from the loosely bound book.

On bending to pick it up, however, she could see that the papers lying on the floor were not in fact part of the book, but letters, one of which had come undone. The book itself was a very dry tome, a Treatise on the History and Chemistry of Mineral Waters and other Aqueous mixtures, that at first held little interest for Lizzy until flicking through the pages to determine where the letters might have been inserted, she came across a flower pressed and dried within its pages. Such an unexpected article raised her curiosity, and though she determined on instantly putting back the letters to their original placing, she found herself turning the opened one over in her hand. There was no date, the hand was clearly feminine, and the words seemed to leap from the page, willing her to take note of them. It was read before she knew what she had done.

Darling Orsini,

I know we promised that there would be no communication between us, but I am compelled to write after seeing you this afternoon. When you declared your love in that place which has become the dearest spot in the whole world to me, I can only tell you that a cherished dream came true. I adore you and to know that finally you feel as I do fills me with such pleasure as is impossible to describe. I love you more than you can ever know and you have made me the happiest girl alive.

We may be young but we know our hearts to be true. What does it matter that we have only known one another for a short while--how are love and constancy to be measured by time alone? I need no approval from those who would not understand. It is our secret, indeed, I have not yet told the person we best love, who is dearest to both our hearts for fear of something dire happening to prevent us from being together. I know you may not always talk to me in company, but a sign, anything, will suffice to remind me of your love. Till I see you again (please let it be this evening),

I am yours,

Viola

Elizabeth wished straight away that she had not read it. The letter was so heartfelt, so personal. A love letter, without a doubt, and one that was clearly shrouded in secrets written by a lady whose name and that of her lover were clearly assumed. Orsini and Viola, Shakespeare's lovers from
Twelfth Night
, Elizabeth recalled. It was all rather mysterious, but no doubt guests of the Darcys staying at Pemberley some time ago had penned it. Well, whatever the letter was doing hidden away in the book, Lizzy thought she should replace it, folding the worn paper along the lines so that it looked much as it had done before it was disturbed. She picked up the other letter and placed it over the top of the first, closing the book with the intent of putting it back on the shelf. The temptation to open the second letter was great, but she reminded herself that neither letter was addressed to her nor were they on public display. Whoever had hidden them had intended them to remain that way, though she felt that something so private as a love letter should have been better concealed or burned if the lovers were worried about their missive falling into the wrong hands. On reflection, she thought she might ask Mr Darcy about it to see if he could shed any light on its composer but then thought better of it. It might seem to him as if she had been snooping around and ferreting amongst what, after all, were his belongings. It was a pity, she thought, for she was sure he would be extremely diverted.

To say that Elizabeth was relieved when Christmas dinner was over is something of an understatement. But she was satisfied that the meal had been an excellent one and, when washed down by the majority with several glasses of wine, found everyone in congenial spirits for the game of charades. Mr and Mrs Darcy started, followed by other willing volunteers, and soon the assembled guests relaxed and started to have fun. There were some excellent puzzles and even Mrs Bennet began to enjoy herself when it came to her time, delivering hers with what she imagined was an erudite air.

Miss Bingley's turn came next. She waited until everyone was silent for the greatest dramatic effect before she recited her charade by heart.

"My first has the making of honey to charm,

My second brings breakfast to bed on your arm,

My third bores a hole in leather so fine,

While united the whole breaks the heart most kind."

She looked around the table with a smirk upon her face and played with her bracelets as if she must find another amusement to keep her occupied from waiting for answers which surely would never come. Charades were her speciality, she knew, and surely this dull company did not have a clue.

Mrs Bennet piped up immediately. "Bees and honey go together rather well to my mind, Miss Bingley. I wonder if 'my first' is a bee."

"Well done, Mrs Bennet," cried Mr Darcy, hardly able to keep the astonishment from his voice. "I am sure you are right, an excellent thought."

Mrs Bennet instantly flushed as scarlet as the berries on the holly leaves adorning the portraits. She directed her best smile at her son-in-law and glanced at him in a coquettish manner when she thought he looked at her.

Kitty was next to surprise everyone as she proclaimed that the second was a tray, and before they could even worry over the third, Mr Bennet declared he knew the complete answer to the riddle.

"Miss Bingley, I have found you out," he said, raising his glass to her across the table. "Duplicity, falseness, and treachery are your game, are they not?"

Miss Bingley held his studied gaze over the table and did not flinch.

Mr Bennet smiled before delivering the solution with triumph. "The word 'betrayal' is the answer to your charade, I think."

For the first time Elizabeth felt some discomfort. She knew her father too well to imagine that his remarks were not given without his intentions being satirical. She knew exactly what he thought of Miss Bingley and of her mistreatment of Jane. But she need not have worried; Miss Bingley seemed not to notice, graciously accepting her defeat, and when Mrs Bennet declared how clever Miss Bingley was to devise such a riddle, the latter fairly glowed with pride and almost, but not quite, returned the compliment.

"I am so pleased you enjoy charades as well as we do here at Pemberley, Mrs Bennet," she said. "It is an old tradition that I believe our host started in his youth. But, in my recollection, I do not think I ever heard of a charade based on betrayal, although the very word has such connotations that I will forever associate with Pemberley. Mr Darcy, what do you think?"

Mr Darcy looked rather discomposed for a moment. "I cannot think to what you refer, madam," came his answer, and his expression, which formerly had been congenial, immediately altered to one of haughty disdain.

"You remember, Mr Darcy, I am sure," said Miss Bingley, who to all intents and purposes was smiling at him. "I can never think of that word without summoning up a picture in my mind of Christmas theatricals. Shakespeare: love and betrayal, his universal themes. You must remember
Twelfth Night
. You were Duke Orsini and I was Olivia. How you pined for me!"

Elizabeth was all attention. Her heart began hammering as she recollected the letter she had found in the library. So, Fitzwilliam had played Orsini, but it did not follow, she reasoned, that the Orsini implicated in the letter was her husband. There had probably been dozens of theatricals over the years, and in any case, the letter's recipient might have nothing to do with any of it. She waited to see his response.

"My dear Caroline, I can barely recall such an event, and I must admit, although I can remember being dressed up for many a part, the particulars escape me. Tell me, was I any good?"

This brought a laugh to echo round the room. Mr Darcy stood up and with a mock bow announced that, as there were scarcely two hours left before the dancing was due to begin, they might all wish to repair to their rooms for restoration and preparation.

In her dressing room Elizabeth prepared for the ball, and though the looking glass told her that she had never felt more pleased by her appearance, her feelings were in turmoil. Caroline Bingley, it had to be said, always had the power to make her think irrationally and tonight was no exception. That lady's allusions to the past, to a time before Elizabeth had known her husband, made her feel not only uncomfortable but also quite envious. It was silly, she knew, but she must admit a certain jealousy when she thought about the Christmases he must have spent in the company of Caroline Bingley and every other young woman in the vicinity.

"I know very little about my husband," she thought. "I know he was never in love with Caroline Bingley, but does that mean that he was never in love with anyone before he met me? I have not considered such a thing before today, but I am certain that a man does not reach the age of twenty-nine without experiencing an affection or infatuation or maybe something more."

Could the letter she found implicate her husband in some way? she considered for the first time. Lizzy did not want to think about it, but she felt sure that her mind would be put at rest with just one more enquiry. For now, she would forget about it and concentrate on the matter in hand. She scrutinised her reflection with a critical eye and was satisfied enough to smile at the young woman who stared back at her. Elizabeth's gown of white sarcenet fitted beautifully, accentuating her slight and graceful form. With her headdress of lace and feathers further emphasising her colouring, her skin glowed, setting off her sparkling eyes as they glittered with vitality.

There came a soft knock upon the door and when she called out, expecting to see her maid, she was delighted to find her husband instead. He carried her jewel boxes and before long he had assisted Elizabeth with their fastenings, performing this simple task in such a way as made her feel that she must be very precious, as he lingered over adjusting the diamonds in her ears, placing her necklace just so, and holding her hand in the gentlest manner to slide her ring onto her finger. When he had finished he stood back to look at her with such an expression of love in his eyes that Elizabeth could hardly meet them with her own.

"I love you, Mrs Darcy," he said, leaning forward to kiss her lips. "Come, let us go, it is time to open the best Christmas ball Pemberley has ever seen."

∗ ∗ ∗

Georgiana Darcy entered the ballroom on her brother's arm, conscious that the whole room of people were staring at her but knowing, to her relief, that the majority were engaged more particularly in observing her sister-in-law on the other side. It was quite mortifying to be looked at with such close study, and she hoped Elizabeth was more equal than she to the examination. There had always been times at Pemberley when she had to suffer such agonies, but this was by far the greatest challenge she had met, for this was her first ball, her coming out. She could hardly meet the eyes of those who watched her every move and was grateful for any familiar countenance she spied. There was only one face she wanted to see and when she did catch sight of him on the other side of the room standing with his mother engaged in conversation with Mr and Mrs Gardiner, she felt her heart involuntarily leap. As if he were aware of her glance, Mr Butler immediately looked up at precisely the same moment, smiling and bowing in her direction. Even though her heart was beating wildly, she managed to return his smile before Mr Darcy moved on, leading her away in quite another direction.

"Ah, Mr Calladine," pronounced Mr Darcy as a young man stepped out before them. Though not tall, Mr Calladine had a gentlemanly air and appearance, a well-cut coat, and breeches of the best silk and style.

"It is my pleasure to meet you all again. May I offer my compliments of the season, Mrs Darcy, Miss Georgiana," Mr Calladine said, bowing as he spoke and immediately turning towards Georgiana. "I do hope you will allow me the honour of the first dance, Miss Darcy, if I have not been pre-empted by another suitor."

Georgiana did not immediately know how to answer him. She must admit, if only to herself, that she was rather hoping Mr Butler might be first to ask her to dance. But even as the thought occurred to her, she knew her brother would heartily approve of Mr Calladine's offer.

"I am sure Miss Darcy would be delighted, would you not?" Mr Darcy was heard to say before Georgiana uttered a word.

She looked up at her brother's expressive countenance, which seemed to urge her to accept. Georgiana knew she could not possibly refuse and found herself nodding in agreement, her curtsey not only acknowledging but gratifying both her brother's and Mr Calladine's requests.

"I shall look forward to leading you out onto the floor, Miss Darcy," said Mr Calladine, who bowed once more and moved off, not stopping for further conversation.

"He is an excellent fellow, Georgiana," said Mr Darcy. "I like him very much."

Georgiana could not answer. She felt quite miserable at the prospect, and besides, her pulse had started to quicken once more as they headed toward the very gentleman whose presence thoroughly discomposed her. But before they had got much further their neighbours Mr and Mrs Eaton stopped to salute them. Mr Darcy immediately fell into conversation with Mr Eaton but Elizabeth could only reflect on the last discourse she had had with Mrs Eaton and the memory of observing Mrs Darcy's former maid in the church. Such misgivings and recollections must be dismissed from her mind and their conversation, Elizabeth decided, trying hard to steer the topic of conversation onto an agreeable subject.

"Mrs Eaton, how do you do? I do hope you are ready to enjoy some dancing."

"I am ready to dance, Mrs Darcy, but whether I shall enjoy it is another matter. It has always been my belief that such physical activity ignites certain passions amongst those in whom such demonstration would be better suppressed. There is a tendency, I think, amongst the lower orders and the intellectually challenged to prefer dancing to everything else. It is an amusement that encourages profligate behaviour amongst the young and adultery amongst the happily married. I cannot approve of such exertion, but a ball calls for certain sacrifices on one's part. If I must dance, I will, however my inclination against such practices informs me."

"It is very kind of you to put yourself out quite so much," answered Elizabeth, hardly able to suppress a smile. "I find dancing exhilarating and, I confess, Mrs Eaton, to experience a certain pleasure in the activity. I met Mr Darcy for the first time at a ball in Hertfordshire, though we did not dance a step. However, it is not to say that we disliked dancing; we later found we were both prodigiously keen on the diversion so long as we were engaged with the other. It is my belief that to be fond of dancing is a certain step towards falling in love."

"Precisely, Mrs Darcy, my point exactly." She turned to Georgiana. "And how do you like dancing, Miss Darcy? I saw Mr Calladine press his request to open the ball. I daresay we'll have you married by Easter, will we not, Mrs Darcy?"

Georgiana coloured instantly and looked to Elizabeth for assistance.

"I do not think one dance ever decided anyone's future, Mrs Eaton," said Elizabeth, "and Georgiana is full young, I think, to be contemplating matrimony just yet. I hope to see her dancing with several of the young men here tonight."

"I suppose it is all very well if properly supervised, though, mark my words, Miss Georgiana, Mr Calladine will not be satisfied with one dance."

∗ ∗ ∗

Mrs Bennet surveyed the scene in wonder. She felt she had done her daughter proud by the efforts she had made with her appearance and was much gratified by the attention she received from the Darcys' acquaintances and neighbours. She simpered and smirked, saluted and smiled at them all with the dignity she felt fitting for such an auspicious occasion. Kitty stood between her parents with her sister Mary feeling equally happy, her exhilaration caused by having had Mr Lloyd ask for the first dance.

"He is handsome, I suppose," said Mrs Bennet, "but if Mr Calladine should ask you to dance, be sure to smile at him. You may not have your sisters' looks, but a man could go a long way to see good teeth like yours, my love. You have a pretty mouth when you are not sulking, so make the most of it. And if Mr Lloyd asks for another, as it is certain sure he will, tell him you are already engaged."

"I will do no such thing, Mama," Kitty declared. "In any case, why should I not dance with him more than once? Lydia and I always used to dance with whomever we liked."

"But Lydia is married and you are not and we know, do we not, just how grasping clergymen can be? Mr Lloyd wants to get his feet under Mr Darcy's table, that's for certain. He'll be after what pickings he can get. They're all the same and I daresay he's a distant relative of that other odious clergyman, your cousin Collins. I'm surprised he isn't here making the most of his connection with Mr Darcy's aunt."

"But you know Charlotte is indisposed, Mama. She is nearing her time."

"The addition of a miniature Collins would not stop him. And his hint to your father about the rectory being too small to raise a family will not bring his entailment any quicker. No doubt he spends his days praying for your father's demise. My only comfort is that at least I now have three daughters married and will be spared a life in the hedgerows. If you and Mary could just secure one of these nice, rich young men that Mr Darcy has introduced us to, my heart and my nerves would be at ease. Mary, don't slouch so, that pleasant Mr Vernon is heading this way."