1
DERBYSHIRE, ENGLAND, AUGUST, 1834
It is a truth, universally acknowledged, that daughters give their mothers far more concern throughout their lives than do their sons. The mistress of Pemberley, Elizabeth Darcy, believed in that saying with all her heart when facing her usually sweet-natured and biddable daughter, Jane.
The halls and rooms of the great house were dim, the curtains and blinds drawn against the warmth of the late summer sun.
Out in the rose gardens, visitors were sitting under parasols, sipping cool lemonade, talking to her other daughters, Anne and Bennetta.
She needed to attend to them immediately but Jane had been so elusive of late that coming across her on the stairs had provided an unexpected opportunity to confront her.
She tried again with barely concealed impatience. “Jane, dear child, you are being stubborn. Anne insists she had no intention of hurting you; refusing to speak to her, running off to Colonel Fitzwilliam in Dorset, neither of these will solve the problem.”
“Mama, I just need to get away. I feel so hurt, so betrayed.
Anne might not have meant to ruin my life, but that is what she has done! How can I possibly face her every morning across the breakfast table, knowing that Digby proposed marriage to her?
When I thought … I believed …”
Digby! Digby Frobisher! Elizabeth rued the day she had ever heard the name, bitterly regretting inviting him into their social circle. The handsome, fair haired young man had managed to wreck their peaceful lives in just a few months.
She tried again: she was concerned—Jane was normally pale, a frail, slighter version of her more robust twin.
Their faces were identical in form, but Jane’s hair when unbound was a shower of gilt, Anne’s a dark gold. Jane’s eyes were the blue of a robin’s egg whilst Anne’s gaze was harder, a sparkling cold sapphire.
But now Jane was not just pale: she was white and the great dark circles under her eyes spoke of sleepless nights.
“Jane, you never gave any indication that you had formed deep feelings for Digby. I had no idea. Surely Digby himself did not know. Anne has told me that she only guessed and was quite sure he was not the right man for you. She wanted to show you how fickle he was, that he was quite happy to transfer his attentions to her if she showed him they might be reciprocated.”
“I am not the sort of girl, Mama, who goes around telling men how she feels about them! I am convinced Digby knew. He has broken my heart and Anne, however kindly meant her actions were, has aided him.”
Elizabeth stared at her helplessly. How like her dear namesake, Jane Bingley, she was.
Memories of how Charles Bingley had been persuaded that Jane did not love him because she did not show her feelings, came flooding back. Had this been a similar situation?
Had Digby really thought that Anne’s flirtation meant she cared for him, whilst Jane’s behaviour painted a picture of indifference?
“I am sure your heart is not broken—perhaps just badly dented! Well, Jane, I cannot stop you travelling down to Dorset to stay with your godfather. Perhaps a few weeks in his sensible, quiet company is just what you need.”
“Thank you, Mama.”
“Now, go and wash your face and come down to admire baby Victoria. Cassandra is so pleased with her little girl, although I don’t think your Aunt Lydia is as enamoured as the rest of the family.”
Becoming a grandmother is a momentous event in a lady’s life. Sadly, Mrs Lydia Allerton, did not agree. Leaving her husband at home—Colonel Allerton maintained that the Derbyshire air did not suit him, although Lydia knew it was her brother-in-law’s disdain he disliked—she had reluctantly travelled from Newcastle to inspect Miss Victoria Courtney.
Now, sitting under a pink sunshade umbrella in the Pemberley rose garden, she tried to look enthusiastic as she gazed down at the bundle in her arms. But the screwed up red face under the white lace bonnet did not enchant her and only added to her sense of outrage at this further marker of the passage of time.
“You had better take her, Cassandra,” she said to her daughter, holding out the infant. “I think she should go back inside before she starts crying.”
“Why, Grandmama Lydia, anyone would think you weren’t mightily impressed by your granddaughter.”
Elizabeth Darcy didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She found the thought of her little sister’s new title amusing in the extreme, but on the other hand, it made her realise just how quickly the years were passing. Indeed, her oldest children would be twenty this coming Christmas.
“Lord, Lizzy, I’m sure she’s a very fine baby,” Lydia said with a sigh of relief as her daughter carried her precious child away. “But the fuss they make of her has to be seen to be believed. Wyvern Lodge is in a constant turmoil with people rushing around as soon as the child makes a sound. I’ve told Cassie to let her scream upstairs out of earshot, but she refuses to heed me.”
She reached for a glass of iced lemonade and laid back in her chair in satisfaction. It was a hot day; sitting in the shade, in the rose garden of Pemberley, all was quiet elegance, the air heavy with perfume. The only sounds were some sparrows squabbling in a lavender bush and the trickle of a little fountain nearby.
It wouldn’t have suited her to live in such peace all the time—no, she preferred a noisier, busier life—but for an hour it was pleasant. She shut her eyes and very shortly a small snore rose into the perfumed air.
Elizabeth glanced across at the woman sitting quietly under the second umbrella. Miss Susannah Courtney, aunt to baby Vicky, had said very little since she arrived with the Courtney party on this visit to Pemberley.
In her late thirties, Susannah was a neat, brown-haired person with a gentle expression and soft voice. Although in no way subservient, she tended to keep herself in the background at family gatherings and Elizabeth had noticed with exasperation that Lydia treated her almost as if she were a servant instead of a close relation by marriage. She also noticed that Susannah ignored this, never disturbing the peace with arguments or disagreements.
“Susannah, this might be a good moment for me to speak to you. There has been no opportunity so far today. New infants do tend to take up everyone’s time and attention!”
“Certainly. Is there something I can do for you?”
Elizabeth hesitated and glanced across the rose garden to where Anne and Bennetta were talking to Cassandra. Of her other daughter, Jane, there was still no sign. She sighed: the girl was probably packing, eager to leave Derbyshire at the earliest moment, happy to distance herself from her family.
Elizabeth was at a loss how to heal the wounds that recent events had inflicted. Jane had always been the quiet one of the family, but now it was as if she was on one side of a tightly shut window and everyone else in the world was on the other.
She turned back to Susannah. “I have a great favour to ask of you. Jane intends to travel to Dorset tomorrow, to stay with her godfather, Colonel Fitzwilliam. She has already written to him to expect her. She is determined to go and I cannot persuade her otherwise. Sometimes, even though she is the quietest of my children, there is a very stubborn streak in her character. Mr Darcy says she inherits it from me, but I cannot see the resemblance myself.”
Susannah frowned. “I am aware that she is fond of Mr Darcy’s cousin. She often talks of him.”
“She always runs to Colonel Fitzwilliam as soon as she encounters any difficulty in her life. I have begged her to stay home and sort out the problem, but she refuses. To Dorset she will go. Apparently there has been—well, I cannot call it an argument because no one has raised their voices, but a very unhappy falling out between her and her sister.”
Susannah did not need to ask which sister. Anne, Jane’s twin, with her blonde beauty and supercilious expression, had never been one of her favourite acquaintances. Ever since the Darcys and Courtneys had been linked by marriage, Anne had always made Susannah acutely aware that as a woman long past marriageable age, she was just a spinster sister, an unpaid housekeeper for her younger brother and as such of no consequence. While her circumstances were entirely true, it was, nevertheless impolite in the extreme to make such a distinction.
“How can I help?” She was fond of Jane and had always disliked the way she was constantly put in the background by her domineering twin, always deferring to her wishes and had often hoped that one day she would stand up for herself.
“Will you … is it possible for you to accompany Jane? I worry about her so much. I do not like the thought of her travelling on her own when she is in such a distressed state of mind. I fear I would not rest easily at night, although she has been to Dorset by herself before, of course. She was there just after Christmas. I would send Bennetta with her, but the last thing Jane needs now is the company of a beautiful, self-confident young girl.”
Susannah felt her lips twitching and fought to keep a straight face. “Well, you can certainly not call me beautiful or young, and although I think I have my fair share of confidence, I shall do my best to hide it in front of Jane!”
“Oh I am so sorry … I …”
“Please! I quite understand. My feelings are not hurt in the slightest. I would love to visit Dorset. It is not a county I have ever explored. I always travel north, of course, when I visit the family at Courtney Castle.”
“Could Richard spare you?”
Susannah smiled, a little wryly and glanced at Lydia’s sleeping figure. “I know I am of use to Cassandra, especially now she has Vicky to care for, but at the same time I am sure she and Richard will be delighted to have the house to themselves for a while. And there is still a week left of your sister’s visit. I must admit I shall be grateful not to be at home during that time. We do not have a comfortable relationship; I think it comes from when I innocently asked her how she wished to be addressed as a grandmother!”
Elizabeth tried not to smile but failed. “The thought of Lydia being a grandmother fills me both with amusement and also horror at how old I must be if my little sister has now reached that stage in life, although to be fair, she did have Cassandra when she was very young.”
“Yes, I fear she did not take the news of Victoria’s arrival well. But enough of this. The trip to Dorset—I shall be delighted to accompany Jane. We have always been good friends. Am I right in thinking this will not be a long visit to see Colonel Fitzwilliam?”
“A few weeks, no more. Hopefully, when she returns, Jane will have forgotten her disappointments and this disagreement with her sister, and life can return to its even keel again.”
Susannah considered that it would be a good thing if Jane returned determined to be a person in her own right and not just “Anne’s twin” but thought it unwise to say those words to her hostess. She changed the subject. “The house seems very quiet with Henry and Fitzwilliam missing.”
Elizabeth’s usually brilliant dark eyes became shadowed. “It has been a very odd few months. The whole household was put in turmoil by my niece Miriam’s arrival from Africa and even more so by her sudden departure to marry the sea captain! We still await letters from her and Mary telling of the wedding which was supposed to have taken place in Cape Town. Then Fitz left to spend August with a school friend and as you know, Mr Darcy has taken Henry to Portsmouth where he is to join a ship of the line as a midshipman.”
“I was sad not to meet Miriam when she was here, but I could not leave Cassandra when she was so near her time.”
“Oh, I quite understand. I feel as if some exotic bird has flown through the halls of Pemberley, disturbing everything. I would never have believed that Mary, so quiet, so solemn, could have such a daughter. But then our children never turn out as we expect them to.
“And I have had to say goodbye to my dear Henry—to me he seems very young to start such a hard and dangerous life, but I am assured that it is the right thing to do, for him to have his own career in the navy, away from Pemberley which of course, Fitz will one day inherit. As you may imagine, Henry cannot wait to hear cannon fire and be involved in some dreadful battle. The fact that I lie awake at night, picturing all sorts of injuries and worse does not seem to be important to anyone!”
She bit back the words, “Especially Mr Darcy,” because that would have been disloyal to her husband, whom she loved dearly. But on this subject they did not agree and although they had not exactly quarrelled about Henry’s naval career, she felt that her opinion did not matter.
At least they agreed on how undesirable Digby Frobisher was as a husband for either of the twins. Mr Darcy—who would have been quite happy to have kept all his daughters at home, unmarried, for the rest of their lives—had been unusually vocal about Digby’s behaviour.
“So you will accompany Jane? I will arrange for the carriage to stop at Wyvern Lodge tomorrow morning, if that is convenient for you.”
“Certainly. I have only met Colonel Fitzwilliam the once, that was at Cassandra’s wedding, but he seemed an extremely agreeable gentleman. He did me the honour of asking me to dance and we sat next to each other at breakfast. I was very impressed by his knowledge of the world and his genteel manners. It will be a pleasure to make his acquaintance again.”
“I fear I cannot tell you more of the disagreement between Jane and Anne because that would mean breaking a confidence. But, of course, if Jane tells you herself, then please feel free to give her any advice you can. Mine, I am afraid, is of little use. Apparently ‘I do not understand about love!’”
She stood up and adjusted her parasol. “Now, I will awaken my lazy sister and announce that tea is ready in the drawing room. You must have some refreshment before you leave. The girls’ elderly nurse, Nanny Chilcot, whom, as you know, has rooms in the east wing now she has retired, has, I believe, been called into action to care for Victoria so we can all eat in peace. Indeed, I will be surprised if we manage to extract the infant from her arms when your carriage is called!”
She turned to her duties as mistress of Pemberley and tried to push her worries about Jane to the back of her mind.
So many years had passed since the twins had been born and Elizabeth was certain that most people would have long forgotten that she had almost lost the younger twin. Anne was a healthy infant but Jane had been tiny, fragile and her parents were told by the doctors that she might not survive. For weeks they had hardly strayed from the nursery, desperate for the child to thrive.
Thankfully, as the months passed, Jane had grown stronger, although she never had her sister’s robust constitution; always the first to be ill, to catch a cold, to tire when walking or riding. Elizabeth knew she had treated her differently from the other children; shielding her from anything unpleasant, not allowing her to ever take unnecessary risks, always concerned that she was not over-tiring herself.
Bennetta should, of course, have taken her place as the child most in need of care, but then Bennetta, whose arrival in the world had almost ended her mother’s place in it, had never and would never rouse the same tender emotions in Elizabeth. She loved her wild child dearly, but apart from two years previously when she had fallen from her horse and lost her memory for several days after hitting her head, she had never had a day’s worry about Bennetta’s health.
Now she was beginning to realise that this constant protection of Jane had, perhaps, been inadvisable. Throughout her nearly twenty years, Jane had never had to make her own decisions or been allowed to suffer any discomfort. She had never learnt to deal with any hardship. Was that why this silly affair with Digby Frobisher had affected her so badly?
Elizabeth sighed, woke her sleeping sister and gathered her guests together for tea. Daughters were a great trial and she wondered if her mother had lain awake worrying about her five girls. Then she smiled and thought, ‘Mama worried about getting us married. Our characters were our own affair.’
Upstairs in the cool of the library, the girl who was causing her mother so much concern was gazing out of a window at the splendour of the great parkland below her. This room had a northerly aspect and so was cool even on the hottest of summer days.
Nobody had needed to sculpt or force the surroundings of Pemberley into beauty, no Capability Brown had been hired in the past to provide a magnificent landscape—nature had managed that all on her own. Admittedly, in one or two places, a tree had been felled to produce a distant view of woods and high hills but great oaks and Spanish chestnuts cast their shade on the lawns.
The flower gardens on the southerly side had been extended by the Darcys in the years since their marriage, and fell away in tiers of white, red, pink and yellow, roses and lilies. Little paths wound through the flowers and in places small fountains burbled bright cascades of water into pools.
Jane, who was usually only too happy to sit and read, occasionally glancing up to enjoy the scene before her, now sat on the deep window sill, half hidden behind the heavy brocade curtains. She knew she could not stay there much longer. It would be extremely discourteous to Cassandra not to go downstairs and admire the baby.
But Anne would be there and the thought of facing her twin at the moment filled her with dread. How could she have been so callous, so unkind? Did Jane mean so little to her that she could hurt her in this fashion?
“I truly believe she does not see me as a person at all,” she murmured to herself. “All our lives, I have just been a pale copy of her, to be ignored, not someone with real feelings and emotions.”
Then somewhere deep inside her head a voice muttered, “But you liked being overlooked, allowed to go your own way, enjoyed being ‘just Jane’ so that no one queried you or argued. You never had to defend your thoughts because you never told anyone what they were. It isn’t all Anne’s fault!”
But she was too unhappy to listen for long or give the voice any attention: she stepped down from the window sill and straightening the pale blue silk that billowed over her petticoats, she tightened the darker blue sash and brushed tears from her cheeks.
‘No one here understands,’ she thought. ‘Mama loves Papa, of course, but I am sure she has never felt this way, never had someone tell her how ardently they admire and love her and then … Well, I am going to stay with dear Colonel Fitzwilliam. I’ll be safe there at Deerwood Park. Free from Anne’s barbed comments, Bennetta’s knowing looks and Mama’s questions.’
“Jane! Jane! Oh, here you are. I guessed you would be in the library.”
In a riot of dark curls, her younger sister, Bennetta, rushed through the door in a swirl of lemon spotted muslin, the huge sleeves which her father disliked so much, tied above and below her elbows with dark green ribbon. Jane could not remember a time when Bennetta did not rush: she seemed to run through the whole day, whirling from room to room, from plan to plan. Was she ever unhappy? Jane thought not and envied her most deeply. Surely Bennetta would never know the pain of betrayal by people she loved.
“Mama has sent me to find you. Aunt Lydia and Cassandra will be leaving soon. You must come and say your goodbyes and admire Miss Vicky. Lord, Jane, what is wrong with you? Even Anne has held the baby, although I think from the look on her face, Miss Vicky might have disgraced herself at that very moment! And I have run out of complimentary things to say about someone so small and pink. Now, do come. And try to be cheerful. You are making such a fuss over a silly man! There are so many men in the world to meet and attract. Crying over just one seems ridiculous to me.”
Jane was silent as she followed her sister downstairs to make polite conversation with the departing guests. There was no escape from comments and speculation whilst she remained in Pemberley. She could not wait to escape and be in the sympathetic company of someone who would always put her first, only have her wellbeing at heart.
She said her goodbyes and was surprised but delighted when Susannah whispered that she was to accompany her on the morrow and was so looking forward to visiting Colonel Fitzwilliam’s country home.
Two days later, a carriage travelled slowly up a steep hill in the county of Dorset: Jane and her companion were traveling in luxury and comfort. It was another hot day but with September almost on them, the heatwave that had covered the country was finally on the wane; indeed, from the state of the muddy road it looked as if there had been heavy showers in that part of Dorset that morning, although now the sky was clear.
They had passed fields that were being harvested, the workers bent double in long rows, billhooks flashing as they cut down the lines of wheat. In other meadows, groups of women were binding the cut wheat into bundles, children running around, laughing and playing. On the higher hill slopes, flocks of sheep grazed.
At a reasonable pace, because the ladies did not wish to be thrown around inside, the carriage travelled on, through neat villages of thatched cottages, fording shallow streams and stopping occasionally for the team to be rested.
The remains of a picnic box packed with inviting bites to tempt even the most ladylike of appetites now lay on the carriage floor, almost empty. They had made good time on the journey from Derbyshire, stopping one night at Longbourn, in Hertfordshire, to visit Jane’s grandmother and Aunt Kitty, then skirting around London instead of driving through the noise and bustle of the great city.
Jane had been glad that their visit to Mr and Mrs Collins had only been for one night. She had to admit she was not fond of her Aunt Kitty or her husband. The former was a large lady, very fond of her food, with a bad complexion, complaining voice and manner. Mr Collins also had a great deal to say but Jane thought him pompous and his ingratiating manner annoyed her.
Although she tried to find a dutiful affection for her grandmother, she found the very elderly Mrs Bennet silly and annoying and marvelled, not for the first time, that this was her dear mama’s mother.
There was only one subject of conversation, the marriage of Catherine—Mr Collins’ daughter by his first marriage—to Sir Robert Courtney. At least Jane had the satisfaction of seeing Susannah treated with more respect and appreciation than shown by her Aunt Lydia. As Robert’s elder sister, she was received with all polite attentions and given precedence at the dinner table, even though she was unmarried.
Apart from endlessly talking of “Lady Courtney”, the Collins’ household revolved around the child Harriet; an unattractive little girl, as tall as she was wide, with a stubborn disposition, not helped by being spoilt to extremes by her parents and grandmother.
Glad to be away from Longbourn, Jane gazed out of the window and saw not the beauty of the countryside but her own pale reflection under her pale green hat; she looked white and drawn, her eyes shadowed in dark circles. There was a little dirt on the inside of the window and, with a gloved finger, she drew a round face with a smile curving across it, then rubbed it out hastily. She couldn’t recall the last time she had smiled.
Susannah sighed and tried to think of something to say that would brighten the day. It distressed her to see Jane in this pitiable state. She was such a gentle soul; the thought that someone could have hurt her to this extent was painful.
The carriage jolted violently as they crested the hill and made their way cautiously down the track on the other side Archie, recently promoted to head coachman at Pemberley, applied the brake, cursing as Tabitha Ford, the young maid sitting next to him, squealed and grasped his arm, although the postillion had dismounted and was holding the horses’ heads to stop them going too fast and slipping on the rough surface.
Susannah wished she knew more about why Jane was so keen to leave home. Not a word had been said about her reasons for the trip and Susannah could only hazard a guess that a young man must be at the centre of the disagreement. She could think of nothing else that would cause such an upset between sisters.
“Jane, my dear, you seem so sad. I do not wish to force a confidence from you, but if there is any way in which I can be of assistance, please tell me. I find your current condition so distressing.”
“Oh I am sorry. I had no intention of making everyone in my life feel as miserable as I do. I just feel … I find it hard to put into words …” She stopped. How could she possibly tell this calm, good-natured woman how unhappy she had become.
“Tell me immediately if I am wrong, but I sense this is something to do with a young gentleman, a certain Mr Digby Frobisher. I shall not pretend ignorance; oh, don’t look so surprised, no one has been talking about you to me, but Bennetta tells all the gossip to Cassandra and I cannot help but overhear.”
Digby! Jane shut her eyes, trying to banish the picture in her mind of his fair hair, good-looking face and a manner and words that had once seemed to promise her all the affection in the world.
Just then the carriage reached the bottom of the hill and came to a halt. Archie dismounted and came round to the window. “Miss Jane, we have about ten more miles to go before we reach Deerwood Park. I need to rest the horses for a while, so if you and Miss Courtney wish to alight for a breath of air, please do so.”
“Thank you, Archie.”
They stepped down with his help and wandered across the road to where a stile led onto a footpath that vanished away into a thick wood. Jane sat on the step, trying to discipline her billowing skirts and gazed at the trees, their branches swaying in the breeze, but she was not seeing the splendour of the day, just a crowded drawing room in Mayfair.
“I first met Digby at Catherine’s wedding to Sir Robert last year. We had a wonderful long and heartfelt conversation about the plays of Shakespeare. We danced and he made sure I had a glass of champagne. Then I met him in London, before Christmas. Time has gone by so fast. We had … I believed we had a … a connection.”
She felt hot colour flood up into her cheeks as she remembered. “We spoke of books, we had both seen an exhibition of Ancient Greek artefacts at the British Museum that were of interest. We discussed important things, like the growing problem of unemployed men gathering in London because there is no work to be had in the countryside. Although he seems like a man about town, Digby has a very serious side to his nature and I felt honoured that he had let me see that aspect of his character.”
“I envy you. To find a man whom you can admire and respect is a blessing.”
Jane sighed. “There was no time for us to become closer. I had already promised to visit Dorset to stay with Colonel Fitzwilliam after Christmas, but in the weeks that followed I received letters from Digby. Oh, Susannah, they were such lovely letters! Warm and kind but very proper. No sense of over familiarity, just consideration and intelligence. It led me to believe …”
“That he cared for you?”
“Yes,” came the whispered reply. “And then because we had not celebrated our birthday which falls just before Christmas, Anne wanted to hold a ball at Pemberley. Our cousin Miriam had arrived from Africa, if you remember, and it was to be a grand occasion for her, too, and everything seemed exciting. To my astonishment, Digby drove over from Cheshire that evening with his family. I was not expecting to see him, but oh, I was so pleased. And Anne ruined the evening!”
“Not deliberately, surely?”
“She asked him to dance, she flirted, she encouraged him to stay by her side all evening. As you know, the great artist, Edmund Avery, had painted a portrait of us Darcy children and it was to be unveiled that evening. I so wanted Digby to be by my side when that occurred, but Anne had other plans.”
Susannah looked grave. “But surely, if he was your particular friend …?”
“Oh, she thought it a fine joke. A tease. Afterwards, she said she had no idea I was fond of him in any great way and was sorry for her behaviour. And so I forgave her.”
With a rustle of pale green silk, she stood up abruptly and, careless of her thin leather shoes, walked a little way along the muddy road in the deep shade cast by the trees.
“A day or so later I had a letter full of apologies from Digby, hoping that our friendship had not been spoiled in any way by what he called his ‘attempts to prove himself affable to my twin sister and so win her approval of any future connection between us’. He … he professed to ardently admire and love me!”
“Goodness, that is practically a proposal!”
Jane laughed but it was not a happy sound and she walked further along the road, as if she could not bear to stand still for too long.
“I am glad to hear you say that because I thought so, too. After that we met twice in London—the first time was at a large gathering held for Bennetta’s coming out in July. I was so happy. We danced, we sat on the terrace, oh Susannah, I could not possibly have imagined his feelings for me. I am not the sort of girl who thinks every man she meets will fall in love with her.
“Then just two days later, Digby came to call at Matlock House, to thank my parents for the pleasant evening and we walked together in the garden—although I admit I sensed a certain restraint in his manner towards me. However, I imagined that was because his family had of late suffered from a disaster. Everyone was talking about it at every social occasion.”
“The Frobishers live in Cheshire, I believe. Yes, there were rumours about them. Did not Mr Frobisher Snr lose a vast fortune out in the West Indies?”
Jane nodded. “Indeed, in Antigua, but Digby said very little about it although it was clear he was concerned for his father. However, rightly or wrongly, I believed that they were still a wealthy family and would easily weather the financial storm.”
“A gentleman’s lack of a very great fortune would not have mattered to you if you truly loved him. He was not likely to be destitute and ask you to live in a hovel!”
The breeze swirled along the hedgerow, trembling the late blossoms of honeysuckle that trailed amongst the briars, sending their perfume spinning through the warm air.
Jane looked back in her mind at all that had transpired. “Of course not. He had already told me in general conversation that he had money of his own, left by a doting grandfather, but he made no offer although he was as warm and affectionate in his behaviour towards me as ever, only, as I said, a little more formal. I thought it just a matter of time, that when his family problems had been eased and he could concentrate on happier things, he would approach Papa for my hand.”
“And had you told him of your feelings?”
“Not in so many words, no, but Susannah, he could not have been in any doubt that I cared for him.”
The older woman looked doubtful; in the two years since she had first met Jane Darcy, she had never seen any indication of strong emotion cross her face and although she had never been in love herself, she knew that gentlemen sometimes needed confirmation that their advances would not be rejected.
“Quickly, my dear, tell me the end of this story. We must return to the carriage. I can see Archie signalling that he is ready to set off once more.”
Jane raised her chin and stared bravely at her companion. “Oh the end is very easy to report. Last week, Digby came to stay at Pemberley. I am sure you can imagine how pleased I was to see him, although I was puzzled, I didn’t understand who had invited him. It turned out to be Anne. The day after he arrived, he went to Papa and asked for Anne’s hand in marriage!”
Susannah stood still in the middle of the road. She had no words to express her horror.
“You may well look surprised. Perhaps you can imagine my shock, my despair.”
“I don’t understand; are you saying Anne is in love with Digby Frobisher?”
Jane shook her head impatiently. “No, of course not. Digby is far too insignificant a person in society for Miss Darcy of Pemberley to marry. She refused his offer and he left without even seeing me. She says she led him on for my sake; to show me that he was nothing but a fortune hunter, that appearances can be deceptive. That he would have settled for me, but when she pretended to like him, he saw a chance of a better catch.”
“A clumsy way of helping. A word or two in confidence to you would perhaps have been more advisable. But you don’t believe she acted in your interest?”
Jane bit her lip, her blue eyes misted with tears she refused to shed. “I don’t know. I feel so betrayed. Even if she is telling the truth, why, as you rightly say, not speak to me about it? She is my twin. I had lately confided in her that I thought I loved Digby. She knew how much this would hurt me but went ahead anyway.”
“What does your mama say?”
“Oh Mama is cross with her but believes that she acted from the best of intentions. But you have not yet heard the worst of what occurred. The next day I received yet another letter from Digby—oh, he writes so well—he should write romances, the type of book Bennetta reads!”
“But what could he possibly say in mitigation?”
“That he had always truly loved me—and that in a few month’s time, perhaps we could resume our affectionate relationship. He seems to think that I will be quite happy to be second best, that this is a perfectly good reason for breaking my heart!”
“You surely did not reply?”
Jane shook her head. “Of course not. I burnt the letter and decided to come down to Dorset to stay with dear Colonel Fitzwilliam. I cannot face Anne at the moment and I am scared that Digby will arrive at Pemberley again with more lies and apologies. Susannah, I fear I love him so much that I will weaken and give in! I have been so used to being second best to Anne all my life, it almost seems like the natural thing to do. I think that upsets me most of all.”
Susannah tried to inject some confidence into her voice. “Well, I don’t think you would ever do that. I am convinced that you have plenty of courage to stand up for what is right, even if you have never had to use it before now. You know exactly what type of man Digby is and although you have been grievously hurt, it is over and done with.
“To be fair, we know that not everyone can marry for love. Gentlemen sometimes see a union as more of a business arrangement and as long as both parties are agreeable, such a marriage can work. But I can see that you do not think like that. Well, a holiday with Colonel Fitzwilliam will soon set you back on your feet. He is such a sensible man and I am sure that in his sympathetic company you will recover quickly. There are so many good men out there in the world. Certainly, if you are so inclined, you will find someone to love and admire very soon who will never see you as second best.”
To her surprise, Jane turned from the top step where she was climbing back into the carriage, her eyes flashing.
“That’s what Bennetta says. Lots more men to attract! No! I shall never marry. How can I ever trust a man again? How could I believe any words of love he spoke to me? I would always remember Digby and doubts would rise up in my mind. No, I am finished with men completely. Apart from those in my close family, I trust none of them!”
And as Susannah gazed at the icy expression in her eyes, she realised that her friend had retreated behind a wall built of grief and despair and wondered if she would ever emerge from there again.