Unforgiving Temper (26 page)

Gingerly he lifted out a lock of golden hair,
feeling its silky softness as he raised it to his lips and breathed
deeply the faint traces of her perfume. He gently fingered the bit
of faded blue ribbon, conjuring up memories of that day he had
taken the token from her. He smiled at the vision of her sitting by
the pond, so intent on her task of painting the violets that had
defied the lateness of the season. Her bonnet hung down her back,
giving the sun full access to her shimmering locks. The afternoon
breeze had tugged playfully at that very curl and the temptation
was too great to resist capturing it for himself.

With a start, he shook his head to clear the
now painful memory and exhaled deeply. Setting the golden tress
aside with great care, he endeavored to quell the trembling in his
hand as he reached again into the chest and drew out a letter which
bore the unmistakable signs of having been crushed and then
smoothed out again. With a heavy heart, he unfolded the single
sheet of paper, now somewhat brittle and yellowed with age. The
nearly ten years that had passed since he first received the
communication did nothing to lessen the profound grief caused by
its contents.

“…
The matron of Magdalene House could not
tell me the name of the seducer, but said he was rumored to be the
young heir of a very wealthy family. I questioned the servants and
other intimates of the house, and found that one of the upper floor
maids had formed a close acquaintance with Miss Monroe, and had
heard more of the story from the lady's own lips.

The maid did not know the specific details,
but apparently Mr. Monroe had entangled himself in some financial
difficulties sufficient enough to bring general disapprobation and
shame upon his family, if they were to become generally known.

This knowledge fell into the hands of a
student at nearby Cambridge University, who thereby made
ungentlemanly demands upon Miss Monroe's virtue, threatening to
expose her father and destroy her family if she denied him. The
maid did not know the name of this blackmailer, but remembered
being told that his family possessed an estate near to
Chatsworth.

When it was discovered Miss Monroe was with
child, Magdalene House expelled the unfortunate young lady. After
some weeks, I was able to trace her to a nearby charitable
hospital. Unfortunately, she had died in the act of giving birth to
the child. I attempted to locate her grave marker; but as she died
a fallen woman, and in penury besides, it can be no surprise that
she was buried with few rites, and no headstone.

Having no additional information to present,
this completes the investigation you requested and I enclose a
summary of expenses...”

Grissholm stared at the letter for some time
as a new plan formed in his head. He had at first thought to mete
out to Elizabeth the same fate Darcy had inflicted upon Catherine;
but now he had a much better idea. He could not help the smirk of
anticipation that was growing on his face. He would deliver a
greater disappointment to Darcy that would be an exquisitely
painful reminder of his loss every day for the rest of his
miserable life!

* * * *

Elizabeth hesitated outside the breakfast
room and shot a brief smile to the doorman, trying to contain the
tinge of pink that rose in her cheeks. She could not dismiss the
memory of yesterday's outburst in Lord Grissholm's study, and
knew what awaited her on the other side of the door. She had
avoided his lordship at dinner with the excuse of a headache, but
there was no point in avoiding the inevitable any longer. She would
have to face him and the dismissal that was certain to come. Now
was as good a time as any. Straightening her shoulders, she entered
the room as the clock on the sideboard sounded its seventh
chime.

“Good morning, Miss Bennet,” Rebecca
smiled warmly. “I hope you are feeling better this morning.”

“I am, very much. Thank you.” A quick look to
the head of the table brought both relief and concern at the same
time. Lord Grissholm's chair was empty! Was he angry? Did he
refuse to sit at table with her after her disgraceful behavior?
Rebecca was obviously not informed of the incident and for that
Elizabeth was grateful. Trying to keep her voice from betraying her
thoughts, she asked, “Is his lordship ill this morning?”

“No, not at all! He said had some kind of
important business to attend, and left early.” Rebecca's eyes held
a hint of mischief. “If the cat's away, I think the mice should
play! It is too beautiful a day to stay indoors. Shall we go on a
picnic?”

“And what if his lordship should return and
find us out on a lark? You know he dislikes it when we go out
alone.”

“Oh, he will not be home until this evening.
He is always late when he is
away on business
. He will never
even know we were gone. Please? I know how you love to walk and it
has been days since we have spent any time away from the
house.”

Elizabeth paused to consider how much her
charge had blossomed in the past few months. The extreme shyness
was now replaced with a quiet assurance that put a gentle glow in
the girl's face – that is, when Lord Grissholm was not around.
With a slight sigh, Elizabeth consented to the plan. She could not
resist Rebecca's pleading look nor her own desire to be out in the
fresh air. The weather was pleasant, much cooler than August
weather in Hertfordshire, and it was sure to be her last
opportunity to enjoy it before leaving.

“Very well. I shall ask Mrs. Moore to fix us
a lunch basket. We can leave after breakfast and be home before
dinner.”

Rebecca clapped her hands in anticipation and
eagerly turned her attention to finishing her breakfast. Elizabeth
ate her own breakfast with a determination to enjoy the day ahead.
She was sure she would not have many more days with Rebecca, if
any.

It did not take long for the arrangements to
be made and very soon the two women set out from Everton, a small
picnic hamper on Elizabeth's arm.

For three quarters of an hour they followed
the path leading eastward, away from Everton and through the
stretch of forest visible from Elizabeth's bedroom window.
Gradually, the trees gave way to open fields that rolled into the
gentle foothills of Grey's Fell. They continued on for another
hour, taking the path leading to the top of the fell before Rebecca
finally cried out in good-natured protest. Elizabeth halted
abruptly, embarrassed by the tortuous pace she had unconsciously
set in her eagerness to be away from Everton and the unhappy future
it now represented.

Taking a blanket from the hamper, she laid it
on the ground and the two sat down, admiring the view spread out
below them. All they could see of Everton was its two topmost
chimneys rising above the edge of the forest, but the Irish Sea was
clearly visible on the horizon.

“I am sorry to drag you along so rudely. It
has been a long time since I have had an opportunity to take a walk
such as this. It is breathtaking, is it not?” Elizabeth's eyes
sparkled with excitement. “There is a place in Hertfordshire –
Oakham Mount – that is very much like this. Excepting, of course,
we have no view of the coastline.”

“Do you miss it terribly?” Rebecca leaned
back and stared at the sky. “Home, I mean.”

Elizabeth raised her face to the breeze and
gazed into the distance for a few minutes before answering.

“At times,” she admitted. “I do miss my
family; but I miss my sister Jane the most. The two of us are very
close and not having any news from her has been difficult.”

“No news at all?” Rebecca turned to her in
amazement. “But why?”

“The situation is…a little difficult.”
Elizabeth hesitated, unsure as to how much she should tell Rebecca.
“There was a great deal happening when I left home and I suppose
there has been little time for letter writing. At least that is
what I am hoping. There is a gentleman involved, you see.”

“Oh. A gentleman! How wonderful for your
sister. Or is it?” Rebecca was suddenly alarmed that she may have
said the wrong thing.

“Yes, it is a wonderful thing,” Elizabeth
laughed. “I am very hopeful. When I left Hertfordshire, it was not
entirely settled, but I believe they were very much in love and
well on their way to becoming engaged.”

A comfortable silence descended as thoughts
of love and marriage drifted through both their minds in very
different ways.

“Miss Bennet?” Rebecca murmured at last.
“I should like it if you would call me Rebecca. Do you mind?”

“No, not at all! In fact, I would like it
very much. And will you call me Elizabeth?”

“Oh, yes! That would be wonderful. It is
almost like I have a sister again!”

Rebecca's wistful tone brought Elizabeth a
twinge of guilt that she had enjoyed the company of so many sisters
when others like Rebecca had none. “Do you remember your
sister?”

“Only a little. She was much older than I,
and always coming and going. But I remember she was very beautiful.
Sometimes she would read to me at night. I do remember that. And I
believe she would take me on walks – to the park, I think.
Sometimes I cannot tell if the memories are real or something I
have dreamed. I was so young and it was a long time ago.”

“Does Lord Grissholm ever mention
anything about your family?”

“His lordship? Most definitely not!” Rebecca
grimaced. “Until you arrived, he hardly ever acknowledged I even
existed – which is just fine with me. He frightens me so.”

“Try not to judge him too harshly. Many times
people are affected by circumstances we know nothing of. They carry
a great burden that makes them appear much worse than they are.
Trust me, I know. If you judge a person too quickly, you may live
to regret it.”

“Do you have regrets, Elizabeth?”

“Everyone has regrets of one kind or
another,” Elizabeth replied playfully. “And this conversation is
getting far too serious! We have come on a picnic to enjoy
ourselves. Shall we see what Mrs. Moore has put in the basket?”

“Oh yes!” Rebecca sat up and peered into the
basket, the conversation instantly forgotten. “I find I am quite
famished after our walk.”

They enjoyed a leisurely meal of fruits and
cheeses and cold pies while Rebecca related what she knew of the
neighborhood, pointing out landmarks visible from their elevation.
The landscape was much more severe than the verdant countryside of
Hertfordshire, but Elizabeth willingly conceded Cumberland held a
peculiar beauty of its own.

After lunch, Rebecca took up pencil and paper
that had been packed as well, eager to sketch the scene before her.
Elizabeth explored their surroundings a little more before settling
down on the blanket with a book of poetry. Before long, the warm
sun and gentle breezes lulled her into a pleasant slumber.

The sun was sitting low in the sky when
Elizabeth woke with a start. Shaking her head to clear the wispy,
tangled thoughts of Jane and Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy
and Lord Grissholm, she saw Rebecca, still absorbed in her
sketching.

“We should be going,” Elizabeth announced as
she looked at the sky. “We have been out much longer than I
planned. Mrs. Moore will worry if we are too late getting
back.”

“What?” Rebecca remarked absently, then
looked up as well. “Oh, yes! I see what you mean.” Hurrying to
gather her several sketches, she quickly tucked them into her
notebook and stood with a joyous smile. “This has been a wonderful
day. Thank you, Elizabeth!”

“You are quite welcome, but we should hurry.
If Mrs. Moore sends someone out looking for us, his lordship is
sure to find out and then we shall be in for it!”

Rebecca froze in horror. “Do you think he
will find out?”

“There is no need to worry; but we should
hurry all the same.”

Gathering their things, they started back to
Everton, making good time with the help of their downhill course.
Soon they were approaching the first scattered trees that marked
the edge of the forest.

Elizabeth looked to the sky again, gauging
the sun's position. With any luck, they would be home and dressed
for dinner before anyone would have time to be alarmed. She made a
mental note to talk with Mrs. Moore. It had been an innocent
venture, but all the same, it was probably best not to bring it to
Lord Grissholm's attention. Not that it really mattered for
herself, she thought ruefully. She would be leaving soon anyway;
but she did not want to make things any more difficult for
Rebecca.

Coming around a bend in the path, Elizabeth
came to a sudden halt causing Rebecca to bump into her.

“Elizabeth! What are you do-ing…” Rebecca's
voice trailed away as she followed Elizabeth's frozen gaze.

“Lord Grissholm.” Elizabeth made a
nervous curtsey. “What a surprise to see you! We were just on our
way home. Are you on your way to Everton as well?”

She knew he was not. If the look on his face
had not told her as much, the fact that he was holding the reins of
a gig instead of his great black horse would have been enough.

“No, Miss Bennet, I am not. I am looking
for a pair of females who have foolishly gone out alone.”

“Really, my lord,” Elizabeth bristled. “I do
not see the harm in a pleasant walk.”

“Please get into the carriage, madam.
Rebecca.”

Elizabeth wanted to say more, but the look of
devastation on Rebecca's face stopped her. She would not do
anything more to anger the viscount as Rebecca would surely feel
the repercussion.

The gig was barely large enough for the three
of them, but small enough to negotiate the path through the forest.
The canopy of treetops overhead filtered the sun's rays, casting a
gloomy light all around. Elizabeth could not decide if the unease
she felt was from the lack of sunlight or the man sitting next to
her, but the sudden darkness of the forest made her more than a
little glad they had not been obliged to walk through it.