Page 1 of Painted with Love

Chapter 1

“London is beautiful in the spring,” Elizabeth said to her aunt, Mrs Madeleine Gardiner. “Hyde Park was beyond words. The trees, the flowers, the lake… We should return when Jane and the children recover from their colds.”

“We certainly shall. And we shall bring your uncle too. I do not remember all four children and their father being ill at the same time before. Not to mention Jane. I know it is merely a cold, but I have been so worried that I have barely slept in the last week. Thank God they are much better now. Their fevers have gone, and the coughing has reduced considerably.”

“I am here to help you, Aunt. I feel guilty that I forced you to join me on this walk. I know you are eager to be home.”

“Dearest, to be honest, I have very much enjoyed being out for a little while. And since your uncle asked me to take those papers to his partner, we could not miss the opportunity for a little exercise. Jane, my husband, and the servants should be able to manage the children for a few hours.”

“Nevertheless, we should return home, but I hope for another walk soon. I love Hyde Park in the spring.”

“You love both London and the countryside in any season,” Mrs Gardiner replied. “And you love long walks through a park just as much as you love theatre and opera or reading a good book.”

“True.” Elizabeth laughed. “My favourite activity certainly depends on my mood.”

“I am glad to see you as lively as ever, Lizzy. I was a little worried when you returned from Kent. Your spirits seemed rather low and your disposition quite poor.”

“I am truly sorry for worrying you, Aunt. I was just a little tired, perhaps.” Elizabeth averted her eyes as she spoke. She rarely — if ever — lied to her aunt, but now, the truth could not be revealed, not even to her. How could she dare tell anyone that Mr Darcy — of all people — had proposed to her and she had rejected him, throwing at him horrible accusations, which had proved to be unjust? How could she find the courage to admit to anyone what a simpleton she had been to trust Mr Wickham implicitly and to believe all his assertions without requesting evidence?

Never would Elizabeth have imagined that her visit to her friend Charlotte Collins — née Lucas — would bring her into close company with Mr Darcy. Even more — or less — she would have never imagined that Mr Darcy might admire her and would propose to her. She had always assumed he only looked at her to find fault. Apparently, she had been just as wrong about him as she had been about Mr Wickham.

To receive a marriage proposal from such a man as Mr Darcy was unbelievable. To refuse such a man — and to refuse him for the wrong reasons — was quite inconceivable.

Her feelings for Mr Darcy would never allow her to even consider marrying him, despite his fortune and situation in life. Still, knowing he had loved her secretly for so long was as flattering as it was distressing, despite the dreadful manner of his address.

But then he had handed her a letter with detailed explanations of his actions, and her distress had turned into remorse and guilt. Three weeks had passed since that day, and while she did not regret refusing him, she felt terrible for accusing him of misdeeds she now knew he had not committed.

The suffering Mr Wickham had caused Miss Darcy — and through her Mr Darcy — made Elizabeth appalled and angry. That wretched man had no morals, no shame, yet she had given credit to his tales of woe. How could she ever forgive herself for such foolishness? As for Mr Darcy, he certainly would never forgive her, and Elizabeth could not blame him for that.

“I am glad to see Jane in better spirits,” Elizabeth said. “I was truly worried for her, especially after she told me about the visit from the dreadful Bingley sisters. Hopefully, she will see what horrible characters those two have and will not try to find excuses for their insolence.”

“Jane seems to be better. But she has been deeply disappointed to not have seen Mr Bingley in four months. Apparently, she and everyone else assumed more than there was and read too much in his amiable manners. He is probably the sort of man who likes everybody but nobody in particular.”

“An indecisive, shallow man is not attractive at all,” Elizabeth said.

“Speaking of attractive men, do you have any news about Mr Wickham? I wonder whether he is engaged to that young woman you said he was pursuing a few months ago.”

“I have no news of Mr Wickham nor any interest in hearing any about him. I have had time to give it proper consideration, and I fear I was imprudent in trusting the man so readily and so implicitly. Several days after I met him, he shared the story of his misfortunes, and I believed it without asking for evidence. This certainly does not speak well of my wisdom and judgment.”

“Well, well! What a surprise and a pleasure to hear you say so, Lizzy. I agree with you, and I hope you will use your wit and your common sense in future. No gentleman is so eager to share his woes with strangers, and if he does, his words must be pondered carefully. But he was handsome and especially charming, I admit.”

“His charming manners induce people to see him in a more favourable light than perhaps he deserves.”

“Excellent point. You know, I was tempted to write to my cousins in Lambton and ask what they knew about Mr Wickham. I refrained from doing so, though, as I feared you might be upset.”

“Upset? Not at all. In truth, I am rather curious.”

“Really? Then I shall do it — perhaps even today. Let us see what we can find out from a reliable and impartial source.”

They returned to the carriage and continued their journey to visit Mr Gardiner’s partner, Mr Gill. Mr Gill had been the first to fall ill with a bad cold, which he had passed on to Mr Gardiner, who had then been kept from his business for more than a week. The men had been exchanging daily letters, and Mr Gill often sent papers that needing signing and returning.

On that particular day, Mrs Gardiner had offered to personally deliver the signed pages from her husband to Mr Gill. The office they shared was close to Gracechurch Street, but Mrs Gardiner had taken the opportunity for a longer ride in the company of her favourite niece, Elizabeth. Now, they were on their way to deliver the papers, then return home.

The carriage waited on a corner while Elizabeth and Mrs Gardiner walked along a street of shops towards the office. Elizabeth glanced at the windows they passed, pausing for a moment in front of the book shop but only glancing absently at the dresses, bonnets, gloves, and reticules in other establishments.

“One day, when we have more time, we should come and give proper consideration to all these lovely shops. I am sure we would find something to purchase,” Mrs Gardiner said.

Elizabeth nodded, and then suddenly her attention was drawn to a window. She stopped and leant in closer for a better look, narrowing her eyes. Through a few old books, some watches and other items of jewellery, a few paintings, and other objects, she was shocked to see a miniature portrait of someone she knew only too well. Could it be? How was it possible?