Lady Elizabeth (Pride and Prejudice Everything Will Change Book 1) Read online

  “Why did you let my little Lizzy venture so far ahead of you on the streets of Lambton? How could you have allowed yourself to take your eyes off her for even a second, Edward, knowing as you do her spirited nature?”

  “It was not like that at all. You know her fondness for dogs—how much she loves chasing after them. In this instance, one she had been admiring tore across the street and little Lizzy chased after it. Both of them narrowly avoided being hit by an oncoming carriage, which impeded my chasing after her by mere moments. I saw her round the corner just ahead. By the time I did likewise, she was gone. Vanished. The dog was there, but I saw no signs of our little Lizzy. What’s more, there was no one in the general vicinity—no bystanders, no onlookers, not another soul to question. It is as if little Lizzy vanished into thin air.”

  Mr. Gardiner‘s voice filled with remorse. “Words cannot express the depth of my sorrow. But I assure you, the search continues, and I shall return to Derbyshire to do all in my power to recover our dear Lizzy.” Mr. Gardiner had a flourishing business venture in town that was always on the verge of becoming something more than it was. Hence, he was not a rich man. His repeated assurances of doing all in his power to find young Lizzy carried little weight.

  “I thought it was best to bring young Jane home. The poor child has suffered her sister’s loss to the detriment of her health,” said Mr. Gardiner. “Indeed. I mean to leave my dear wife here as well to be of comfort to the family while I return to Derbyshire to resume my part in the search.”

  Through the shock and the pain, one thing was clear to Mr. Bennet. He would not rest until he recovered his most beloved child. “I have every intention of leading the effort.”

  “I was sure you would, Brother.”

  Mrs. Bennet sat silently as her brother paced the floor relating his tale. She should have been screaming at the top of her lungs at her brother and sister for their negligence. She did not. Mrs. Bennet did not blame the Gardiners for her dear child’s mysterious disappearance half as much as she blamed herself. She had been more than happy to have the girls go off with the Gardiners on their trip to the North. In fact, she was the one who had insisted the girls join her brother Gardiner and his wife on the trip and largely for her own convenience. With daughters aged six, four, and two, and another child on its way, she was overwhelmed with the trials of being a young mother. Besides, little Jane and little Lizzy adored their aunt Gardiner. The girls had even stayed with the Gardiners in town when Mrs. Bennet was in confinement with her youngest daughter, Mary.

  Through her tears, Mrs. Bennet pressed her handkerchief to her mouth. Oh! How could this have happened?

  Now her husband had vowed to take part in the search. Considering the honorable man and loving father that he was, of course, such action was precisely what everyone expected of him. Still, the thought of his traveling hundreds of miles away from home for who knew how long left her uneasy. What if a terrible fate befalls Mr. Bennet on his journey; what then would become of the rest of us?

  Mrs. Bennet rested her hand on her stomach. She refused to entertain her favorite wish of the child she now carried being a son. How many times had she prayed that her first-born would be a boy? Her prayers she supposed had fallen upon deaf ears, and thus she prayed louder that her second born would be the son her family needed to secure her place at Longbourn should her husband precede her in death. Then, she never need suffer childbirth again if she could help it. Indeed, she meant to turn her husband away if necessary.

  She had cursed the birth of her second born. Hours and hours of arduous labor and insufferable pain, and what had it yielded her? A bloody girl, she recalled protesting at the time. Mrs. Bennet shook her head in despair. I truly did love my Lizzy. That is to say, I truly do love her—as much as I love my Jane.

  With her eyes heavily laden with tears, she gazed at her brother and listened to what he was saying or, rather, not saying. Were she to rely upon his dire countenance rather than his words laced with desperate hope, she knew she was never going to see her second born child again. Mrs. Bennet wanted to cry aloud, ‘Dear God, why have you forsaken me?’ A silent knowing voice impeded her. She knew with certainty the reason. This is God’s punishment.

  Her eyes filled with disquiet, Mrs. Gardiner studied her husband. So full of regret, he was pacing the floor and endeavoring to explain the unexplainable confluence of events that had brought them to this—the worst time in all their lives.

  How easy it was to discern what one should or should not have done in hindsight. He blames himself for our niece’s going missing while in our care. Already she could see the effect this tragedy had wrought on him. Who is to say how detrimental it will be? This is in every way bad for all parties concerned save perhaps the terrible person or persons who had a hand in this heinous crime.

  A child does not simply disappear from the street during the middle of the day. Somewhere out there, someone knows precisely what happened to our little Lizzy. How I pray the person will do the decent and honorable thing and come forward.

  Having felt herself more of a mother to young Jane and young Lizzy than she thought their own mother was capable of being, Mrs. Gardiner also carried the heavy burden of having the children disappear while in her care. She had lost count of the number of times young Elizabeth and her older sister, Jane, had been relegated to her care owing to their mother’s insistence.

  A young bride, Madeline Gardiner loved Elizabeth and Jane as though they were her own children. Having no children of her own, she was always happy to spend time with the girls who did not always receive the sort of attention from their own mother. Indeed, her sister Mrs. Bennet was too distracted with producing a son who would inherit the entailed estate.

  Little Lizzy, so full of wonder, had a habit of venturing off on her own. I should not have allowed her to wander from my side for even a second. I would not blame my sister if she hated me.

  Memories of young Jane clinging to Lizzy’s doll ever since she was told her little sister would not be coming home that first evening flooded her thoughts.

  No, Mrs. Gardiner did not need Mr. and Mrs. Bennet’s disapprobation. She felt the burden of what happened to young Lizzy every time she looked at little Jane, every time she found herself saying ‘I am sorry, my child—our Lizzy is not here,’ and every time she held the sobbing child, clinging to the tiny rag doll, until sheer exhaustion carried them both off to sleep. Moreover, every moment that Mrs. Gardiner spent otherwise, she prayed that the next person she saw would be her precious little niece, Lizzy.

  Chapter 3 ~ Tried in Vain

  London, fifteen years later …

  “I can hardly imagine the reason Grandfather is so adamant that I have a Season given that he has already charted the course of my future marital felicity,” said Elizabeth, effectively breaking the tacit agreement with her mother not to entertain the duke’s dictate in that regard. She and Lady Sophia were of the same mind when it came to Elizabeth’s future: she must be allowed to choose her own husband, even if it meant going against the duke’s favorite wishes. Elizabeth cherished her dear mother—her staunchest advocate when it came to tempering her grandfather’s oftentimes tyrannical nature.

  It was not that the duke was a disagreeable man—far from it. However, his insistence that Elizabeth was to marry Lord Robert Frawley, someone whom she barely knew, was Elizabeth’s greatest vexation.

  “Why, every young lady of our sphere must have a formal coming out Season. Were you to shun this rite of passage, it would surely be fodder for gossip among the ton for years to come, and we must not have that.”

  “I fear you must be terribly disappointed in me, for not only is the prospect of an alliance with Lord Frawley unbearable, but I have no wish to entertain the notion of marriage to anyone.”

  “Elizabeth, my dear, I am not concerned about your lack of interest in the institution of marriage. These things take time. Why, I was one and twenty before I married your father.”

  Elizabet
h tried in vain to conjure some memory of her father. A wisp of a sigh escaped her. “How I wish I had some memory of him, other than those I’ve pieced together from what I have heard others speak of him—that is.”

  “Your father would be just as proud as I am of the beautiful young woman you have become. I am certain of it.”

  Despite her steadfast devotion to her grandfather and her ardent belief that he was the best man in the world, Elizabeth often wondered about the father whose remembrance escaped her—Lord Frederick Montlake. Rarely did she ever pass his likeness, which was prominently displayed in the family gallery, without searching long and hard for some recollection of their time together.

  Elizabeth often spent time studying Lady Sophia’s portrait as well. She took some comfort in the fact that despite her having none of her mother’s features: golden hair and fair skin—neither did her brother Avery bear their father’s likeness. She never dwelled on the matter for very long, content with the notion that as far as the familial resemblance went, just as Avery was his mother’s son, she was her father’s daughter, and she often imagined it must be the same for their temperaments. Whereas she was never content to remain of the same attitude for very long, her brother’s manner was marked by temperance and reserve just like their mother’s. It had always been that way, even when she and Avery were children. Where else could she have inherited such a spirited disposition as hers if not from her father?

  One of the few memories of her father was one that was reluctantly divulged to her—he had perished in a carriage accident when she was nearly four years old. Little else was discussed of the incident. Any occasion to mention his passing brought about such a fit of discomfort for Lady Sophia that no one dared mention it at all, even outside her presence.

  Lady Sophia felt her heartstrings tug for she could not be certain of a word she was saying. Elizabeth’s curiosity was the means of bringing a bout of silent reflection on Lady Sophia’s part. Had her husband visited Elizabeth before he died? Did he love her—his own flesh and blood? Did he love the woman who had given her birth? Did he suffer a single modicum of guilt over what he had done? Those who knew her best praised her as being a saint for willingly raising her late husband’s by-blow, but she could hardly accept their praise when this beautiful child was truly the answer to her prayers.

  She loved Elizabeth as though she were her own child. No one from amongst their innermost circle of acquaintances dared breathe a word of the truth about the circumstances of Elizabeth’s birth so long as the Duke of Dunsmore had a single breath in his body—perhaps out of respect or perhaps for fear of retribution. However, Elizabeth was older now. She had every right to know.

  Once she was alone in her room, Lady Sophia opened her drawer and retrieved the miniature of her lovely little Bethany. My darling child would be enjoying her second Season. More than once over the years she had wondered how the sisters would have got along. How different would they be? How much alike? It does no good to think of what might have been. I had much better dwell upon the present.

  She had managed successfully to keep Elizabeth’s curiosity about the differences in their appearances at bay, saying that Elizabeth inherited all her good looks from her father’s side of the family. Indeed, the resemblance between Elizabeth and her half-sister Bethany was remarkable.

  At least there is the knowledge that she is a Montlake by birth, despite the circumstances of her father’s infidelity all those years ago, Lady Sophia considered. Her ladyship’s love for Elizabeth was far too great for her to bear her late husband any ill will. She had wanted to tell Elizabeth the truth so many times before, but the duke adamantly opposed, effectively arguing that they must wait until the time was right.

  It will not do to keep putting it off. I am no longer able to protect Elizabeth from some well-intentioned busy body telling her the truth about her parentage now that she is out in Society. I must now tell her the truth about the circumstances of her birth—before anyone else does. Pray she will not suffer pain over the news that another woman brought her into this world—that she and I are not of the same flesh and blood.

  Her ladyship placed Bethany’s likeness inside the drawer and turned the key. There will be time enough to tell Elizabeth tomorrow. Today is her day—one of the most important days in a young woman’s life, save her wedding day. Just the thought of seeing Elizabeth make a highly advantageous match—preferably to a man she loved, caused her heart to sing.

  Lady Sophia promised herself that she would consult her son on the matter first—that way he would prepare himself to be a shoulder for his sister to cry on when and if it came to that. Then she would tell Elizabeth. She prayed the knowledge would not be the means of hardening Elizabeth’s heart against her.

  Later, Avery and Lady Sophia huddled close on the sofa. He placed his hand on his mother’s. “I agree it is time my sister learns the truth, your ladyship.”

  “Son, my greatest fear is that Elizabeth will no longer regard me as her mother. She and I have always been close. I should hate to lose what we share.”

  Unbeknown to either of them, the duke was now standing in the doorway. He stormed into the room. He glared at Lady Sophia. “What have you been telling him?”

  Avery stood. “My mother has decided to tell Elizabeth the truth about her parentage.”

  “You will do no such thing.”

  “How do you intend to stop me, Your Grace?”

  “Go against me on this and you will find yourself without a home.”

  “How dare you threaten my mother?”

  “Mind your tongue when you speak to me, Avery, or you shall find yourself in the same position.”

  “It is only right that my sister should know the truth.”

  “And she will in time!”

  “That is what you have been saying for years, Your Grace,” said Lady Sophia, her voice heightened.

  “Calm yourselves. I am the head of this family! It is up to me to decide what is best for all of us. Trust me, no good will come from sullying Elizabeth’s good opinion of her excellent father - my deceased son – because of his past transgressions.”

  Lady Sophia said, “The purpose in telling her is to protect her from learning the truth from someone who might mean to do her harm.”

  “I have heard all that I will on this matter,” said the duke while pouring himself a stiff drink.

  Avery sharpened his tone. “How dare you even countenance the prospect of Elizabeth learning the truth from someone other than her family?”

  “What happened was a long time ago.” The duke raised a glass of liquor to his mouth and took a swallow. “Besides, you would be alarmed to hear the price of buying one’s silence.”

  Chapter 4 ~ But One Purpose

  Despite her intention to do otherwise, Lady Elizabeth allowed her gaze to pore over his face—his chiseled chin, his stunning eyes. Her older brother’s friend, Mr. Darcy, fascinated her in a manner she dared not confess to anyone. She could not help but consider what a handsome man he was, even if he were a bit taciturn. As much as she would have hated being caught staring, she could not bring herself to obey her mind’s cautioning urges to look away.

  Her lingering memory of first having met him at Pemberley crept into her mind. How presumptuous he had been. He knew nothing about her, save whatever Avery may have mentioned in passing. Yet, he suffered no compunction whatsoever in admonishing her to be wary of a gentleman named George Wickham, who also resided at Pemberley.

  That Mr. Wickham was indeed a charmer was evident from the moment they first met. For a gentleman who for all intents and purposes was mourning the death of his godfather, Wickham did not hesitate to woo her whenever her grandfather and her brother were not present. All of his charms were wasted on her. Oh, he was indeed a handsome man. However, he was old. Why, at least ten years her senior, a fact that was not nearly so consequential now as it had been when she was barely sixteen. At the time, Elizabeth was not about to confess any of that to Mr. Da
rcy. How dare he presume to tell me whom I should be wary of? Who did he think he was? My brother? Such had been the thoughts she entertained back then.

  Elizabeth continued to study her brother’s friend. No doubt, he is brooding over Avery’s keeping him waiting. His brooding enhances rather than diminishes his handsome face. She could look at him all day, even though she had been woefully disappointed that he had not been among that morning’s early callers. Elizabeth’s stomach fluttered. Even now, she could feel the touch of his lips against her skin from the evening of her coming out ball.

  The first time he had met his friend’s younger sister came to Darcy’s busy mind. The Montlakes had traveled all the way from their home in a neighboring county to pay their respects when the elder Mr. Darcy, a longtime friend of the duke, passed away. Darcy’s initial impression of the charming young lady lingered with him still—her pleasing smile, her teasing manner.

  Even though Darcy’s friend, Avery, had spoken of his younger sister on several occasions, her legend did not meet with the loveliness of the young lady herself. He was surprised that a young woman of her standing and her age would be prevailed on to travel such a distance to visit people whose acquaintance she had not made. Avery said his sister thought her being there might provide comfort to young Miss Darcy. Indeed, Georgiana, her brother’s junior by ten years, was quite taken with Lady Elizabeth, and it was Darcy’s understanding that the two young ladies had corresponded one or twice since. Were it not for the disparity in their ages, he was confident they would spend time in each other’s company. Not that it was likely now. He had recently taken his sister from school and set her up in her own establishment in town. The woman who presided over the establishment, a Mrs. Younge, seemed like a sensible woman. She came highly recommended by his uncle’s people. At present, Georgiana and Mrs. Younge were in Ramsgate.