40. Chapter 40

Ch 40

Lizzy sat curled in the window seat, chin under her knees. The moonlight gleamed through her window, fitting her grey mood.

Despite everything, Charlotte was returning to Rosings, returning to her own home, to have her own child. Her past was not haunting her, holding her back. But Lizzy's was.

She swallowed back the lump in her throat. Unlike Charlotte, what she left was not waiting for her. Darcy…no, she would not dwell on what would not be. Oh, but she wished…enough, wishes would not change her future. Actions would.

Her first act had to be undoing that which haunted her, no matter what it cost. She wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and padded downstairs to her father's study.

"Do come in Lizzy dear. The hallway is too chilled for you to lurk about out there." Mr. Bennet pushed the study door open and ushered her in.

Warm air greeted her. "Here I thought I was being so quiet." She laughed softly and looked around the room.

It was much as it ever was, smelling like him, of leather, paper and wood smoke. No candles were lit, but the fire crackled and brightened enough the room for here. How much she missed this room.

"That shows you have been away from home too long." He shuffled in and lowered himself into a chair beside the chess board. "So you are exhausted by all the talk of lace as much as I?"

"No, indeed, I could talk of lace quite indefinitely."

He snorted.

"However, I have found myself at a loss for a decent chess partner and I have longed for a game." She slipped into the chair opposite his.

"I must confess, none of your sisters is up to your standards, although Mary is making quite a valiant effort. She is not so aggressive a player as you though. That will always be her downfall, I believe." He felt along the board and almost knocked over a pawn. "Shall we play with the board today?"

"I think so, there is something so satisfying about weight the pieces as they move across the board." She caressed the black knight she held in her hands. The moonlight played off the edge of the black stallion's jaw, remind her—.

"Are you going to finish setting up the board?" He leaned toward her, head cocked.

"I am sorry," she quickly put the rest of the pieces in place.

He caught her hand. "You are distracted, child."

She tried to pull away. "It is nothing."

He held her fast. "No, that is not true. You do not have to hide from me. Tell me, what it on your mind."

"Oh, Papa." The words ended in a strangled sob as tightly controlled feeling burst forth.

He pulled a pillow out from behind the chair and placed in on the floor beside him. She curled on the pillow to rest her head on his knees. He stroked her hair and crooned a tuneless melody in the back of her throat, a fuzzy soothing sound while she struggled to find her voice.

"You know me too well, Papa." She clutched the cuff of his pant leg in one hand and searched for a handkerchief with the other.

"I always will, my dear." He pressed her head gently. "Now tell me."

"I am not sure I want to." She swallowed back a sniffle. "I fear I will disappoint you."

"I can hardly fathom how I might be disappointed with you."

She hid her face in his leg. "I have not been honest with you. There is something I should have told you long ago." Her stomach twisted and threatened to choke off her words.

"You know by now you can tell me anything." He laid his hand softly on her shoulder. "Whatever it is, we will muddle our way through it." He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

She lifted her face just enough to mumble, "Hoarace Carver." She felt him stiffen tense "You remember—"

The hand on her shoulder tightened its grip. "I will never forget." His breathing turned raspy, rumbling in his belly.

"Those things he said happened, how he…he compromised me…" Biting her knuckle, she struggled not to lose her courage.

She felt more than heard his low grumble.

Her insides trembled. "I denied that it happened." She pressed into him harder. "I told you that he lied about it all." She pulled back and shoved the hair out of her face. She had to look into his face to say this. She had to. "But it was me, Papa, it was me who was lying about it."

She watched him carefully, but his expression did not change.

Did he not hear her, or perhaps he did not understand. Surely he would be angry? "It…it happened just as he said." Her courage evaporated and she covered her face with her hands. The tears she had held at bay poured down her cheeks.

He sighed and twisted one of her curls in his fingers. "And in your guilt have been trying to make up for it ever since. You have been so convicted for your deception that you became the perfect daughter, sister and friend, so necessary to all of us that your worth could not be called into question." His voice was hoarse, the words rasping and low.

She nodded into his thigh, hunched miserably against him. Her tears soaking through the fabric of his pants.

"I have done you a great disservice child and must beg your forgiveness."

Her head snapped up and she stared at him. Her heart galloped like a stallion, pounding her ribs until they ached. "I do not understand, I have lied to you, knowingly deceived you—"

"No, you have not." He carefully tipped her chin up to face him. "You have not deceived me."

She tried to pull away, but he held her with uncharacteristic firmness. "I do not understand."

"I have known all along that his claims were true. He compromised you that day."

The room wavered and spun around her. Waves of muddled feeling poured forth. Her arms flew around his neck, she sobbed into his shoulder until his waistcoat was soaked through.

"How?" she whispered mopping her face with her drenched handkerchief.

"I know you child. I think I said that earlier. It was so very clear, at least to me." He produced a dry handkerchief and pressed it into her hands.

"Why did you not say so? How could you let me lie like that to your face without reprimand. You have always demanded truthfulness from us. Did you not tell us when we were young that whatever punishment we had coming would be doubled if we lied about our misdeeds too?"

"I know." He blew out a breath through puffed cheeks and rubbed his face hard. "That was not the time to punish you though. You were the victim of his cruelty. I could not bear to add to your pain. So I let you have your comfort in believing I thought you innocent. In time, I thought you would come to me and confess it all, then we could bring closure to the whole sordid affair. "

"But I did not."

He lifted his hand to her face. "No, you did not. I persuaded myself that it was because you had come to terms with it and did not need my help in managing it. I suppose the truth is that I wanted to forget it all. It reminded me of how I failed you, how I could not properly protect you from that cad. I wanted it behind us too."

She nodded, sniffling. Somehow, she had never thought about his feelings on the matter. Her own had always been so overwhelming nothing else ever occurred to her.

His face drew into a deep frown. "In doing so, I deprived both of us of the opportunity to heal. You needed my assurance that I hold none of this against you. Whatever forgiveness you needed from me is yours. Then and now I see you no differently now that I did before Mr. Carver darkened our neighborhood." He pulled her up into his lap. "I have done you such a great wrong, keeping that to myself in fear of adding to your burden. In fear of being reminded of my own failures as a father. I was selfish. I convinced myself that I only hoped to ease your heart and instead I have make it worse. Please, forgive me."

She pressed her face into his shoulder and wept again, softly and with relief. In the shelter of his arms the fear of discovery and of rejection ebbed away.

"Forgive me for trying to deceive you," she whispered. "It was wrong of me to even try. I should have known that you would see through it anyway."

"Absolutely. I forgave you the day it first happened." He tucked her head under his chin and held her tight. "Nothing that Carver fellow did or said sullies you in any way. You can stop trying to prove your worth by being indispensable."

She cuddled into him, not speaking for a long time. Something had broken within her and there was a faint hint of freedom in the air. She blotted her face on the edge of her shawl. "Papa?"

He chuckled softly and kissed the top of her head again. "Go ahead and ask."

She craned her neck to look up at him. "You knew Mr. Darcy's secrets, about his sister, his engagement. You did not insist that we end our agreement. You did not me. Why?"

He pulled her back against his chest. "Why indeed? I fear I have been asking myself that for weeks now, ever since I received your letter from London. I have been questioning myself since that day, if I should have done something different."

"Somehow that makes me feel better." She twisted a button on his waistcoat.

"Some mornings I am convinced I failed you most cruelly, but then by evening I am certain of the opposite and that those were the right choices." He rested his chin on her head. "I wish I knew even now."

She nodded into his chest.

"No one but a novelist would have supposed your trip to Kent would put you in the parlor of his aunt and cousin. The thought is truly absurd." He chuckled.

She laughed in a lonely little voice. "When you put it that way, I am sure you are right. It is most unlikely."

"There was no reason to suppose you should find out his secrets in such a shocking, deplorable manner. I trusted Darcy and honestly I still do. He promised he would reveal everything to you when he returned from his mission on the continent."

"He is an honorable man." Her heart pinched.

"I would not have allowed him to marry you without you understanding the entire sordid truth. I warned him you were not to be trifled with. He insisted that his intentions were honorable and that his engagement to you was a result of his very great fear that someone else would see your worth before he was able to declare himself properly. I could not deny such logic." He laughed softly and rubbed his stubbled chin across her hair.

"And you did not share any of this with me." She could not silence the tiny note of petulance in her voice.

"Because I promised him I would not." He huffed and leaned his head back. "I told him of my sister and trusted him with that secret. I could do no less for him."

"And you did not tell him of the Carvers?"

"Because it was your secret to tell not mine. Lizzy, dear, you had not even told me. How could I possibly tell him?"

She nodded against his chest and curled up a little closer. She fixed her gaze on the fire. It popped and a large log slid from its perch, breaking apart as it did. "I was very angry with you when Mr. Darcy told me that you knew."

"I understand why. I would have been too."

"I did not understand why you would keep such secrets from me."

"Perhaps I handled this all wrong. Forgive me for hurting you. I only wanted the best for both of you." He traced her arm with his fingertip until he found her hand. He laid his own along the back of her hand and twined his fingers in hers.

"I understand now." She tightened her fingers around his. "And I do forgive you, Papa."

"Now will you forgive yourself?"

She swallowed hard. "I have to."

"That is why you came down tonight, is it not? You finally understand."

"I think so, or I at least I am start to." She sat up a little straighter. "Charlotte is moving on with her life in spite of her insipid, horrible adder of a husband. I cannot do less."

"That sounds like my Lizzy, at last." He smiled a little wistfully. "I do not want to see you leave home, my dear, but for a worthy man, I would be willing."

"Jane has found the only worthy one in Hertfordshire, I am afraid. They seem in short supply." She slid off his lap and returned to her chair. Bracing her elbows on the small table she rested her chin on her fist.

"Do you regret Darcy?" He leaned in close.

She blew out a deep breath very slowly. "I am not made for unhappiness, I think. I shall remember the past only as it gives me pleasure as I look to the future."

He patted her knee. "You are wise, my dear. Now, how about that game of chess?"

She arranged the pieces on the board. "You may have the first move. I shall best you anyway."

The next evening she sat before her dressing table, brushing her hair. The wedding was in just two days. To celebrate, Mr. Bennet had invited the wedding party to dinner that night Mr. Bingley's unknown friend had arrived that afternoon adding an air of mystery and anticipation to the event.

"I will miss Jane," Lizzy whispered to her reflection. "Who else will I confide in and not be laughed at? Who else can bear so well with my caprice and oddness? It will be so lonely here without her." Their maid was attending Jane, so she agreed to dress on her own tonight, Jane deserved the attention. She was the bride.

Tears prickled and burned her eyes. So many things could have been, but now… no, the time for that was past. But the future was not yet written and come what may, she would be content.

She wound her hair into a chignon, remembering Ruth's clever fingers. How devoutly she had defended her mistress. Despite her many flaws, Lady Catherine was a devoted mother and did the best she could. Her father probably would have been much like Anne had it not been for her mother's intervention. There but for the grace of God... She tucked the last of the pins in place. Rosings was a difficult place to remember, but a place she had learned a great deal. Perhaps on day she would be able ot look upon it without sadness. But not today. She blinked rapidly and checked the mirror once more.

Rummaging in the closet, she chose a gown she could fasten herself and hoped that Jane would not particularly notice that detail lest she feel guilty for monopolizing their maid's time. With a final flip of her skirt, she turned and left her room, stopping at Jane's on the way to the stairs.

Jane too was ready and they descended the stairs arm in arm, laughing in anticipation.

"Charles has told you nothing of this mysterious friend he brings with him?" Lizzy whispered, clinging to Jane's arm.

"Only that he is sure I will approve. It is so unlike him, he is not one to keep a secret." Jane giggled and blushed. "And he has worn the most peculiar look whenever we have talked about it. I feel certain there is more that he is refusing to tell me, but I have not Papa's penchant for making someone blurt out the truth."

Lizzy laughed heartily. "Consider that a good thing. I am sure it is right to allow your husband a few secrets. Besides, I do not believe that the world could manage with too many like Papa in it."

They heard the front door open and the deep voices of men greeting each other.

"He is here!" Jane's eyes lit up.

"Go, hurry to meet him. I shall catch up with you in a moment." She released Jane's arm and gently pushed her.

Jane giggled and flew down the stairs.

Lizzy paused and gathered her composure about her like a shawl. I am not ready to meet someone new tonight. I thought I was, but I am not. I cannot turn back now. It will disappoint Jane far too much. I can do this, I can. She squeezed the handrail so hard she was certain Hill would find impressions from her fingers the next time she polished it. She willed her feet down on step then another, until she finally reached the foyer.

Conversation stopped when she took the final step. She looked up and saw a sea of incongruent expressions. Bingley was gleeful, Jane shocked and her father, he was at peace. She scowled, working at the puzzle until she came to the fourth face in the foyer.

"Mr. Darcy!" She gasped, her heart pounding hard enough to break her ribs.

"Miss Elizabeth," he bowed, never taking his eyes off her.