Page 51 of Mr. Darcy’s Diamonds

“I look forward to it.”

The next day, Elizabeth’s father was much in her thoughts as she worked at the Foundling Hospital. Throughout the months she had been there, many of the younger children, boys and girls, had asked her or other volunteers in her hearing whether they knew their parents. She had heard another such conversation that morning. These children had lived with families for a few years, but they had not known their own families. Had they been made to feel unwelcome, as Aunt Bennet had done to her? She knew Uncle Bennet and her cousins had given her a blessed childhood.

Mrs. Legg had told Elizabeth months ago that a foundling child could be reclaimed by the mother, although it was rare. Records were kept, however, so it was possible the children could someday learn who their parents were.

Elizabeth had still not asked Uncle Bennet about Mr. Asbury. The topic could not be written in a letter, and he did not come to London, sending Jane to Gracechurch Street with servants. She had tried during each of her Christmases at Longbourn. She really had, several times. But it had been nearly impossible to speak with him alone during her brief visits. After her most recent holiday, she wondered if her uncle could read on her face that she had a serious topic to discuss and he had purposely thwarted her.

Sometimes she felt it was not worth learning the truth. If she did not know for sure who Mr. Asbury was, she could pretend he was Papa Oliver. From the time she was five until she was fifteen, she had believed Mr. Asbury to be Papa Oliver and that he was her real father, who had always loved her. While she had been unable to ask questions, that dream could remain unshattered, even though she had not believed it for years. She knew Papa Oliver was not her father, and she strongly suspected Mr. Asbury was.

That evening after dinner, as she and her aunt sewed in the drawing room while listening to her uncle read the newspaper, she decided to boldly take the next step in accepting who she was. The children at the Foundling Hospital had no choice but to accept what was told them, but she had other sources of information. Jane had not known, but perhaps…

“Uncle?” she started when he had finished reading an article.

“Yes, Lizzy?”

“You grew up in Meryton, did you not? With Aunt Bennet?”

“I did. I was not there for long, though, except for visits, as I went away to school when I was about eleven and was apprenticed to a shopkeeper a few years later. Why do you ask?”

“Did you ever know anyone by the name of Asbury? Maybe not someone who lived there but perhaps a gentleman passing through? Or perhaps even a local family.”

“Asbury…Asbury…Have you asked your Uncle Bennet?”

“No. He mentioned the name in passing once, and I was wondering today.” It was not precisely a lie, but Uncle Bennet had told her never to reveal the truth.

“Asbury…You know, I think your uncle had a cousin by that name, a Miss Asbury. I remember seeing her at Fanny’s wedding, not long before I left for school. Though I was young, she made an impression because she was the oldest woman I had ever seen, or she seemed to be at the time, and I was confused as to how she was Miss Asbury rather than Mrs. Asbury.

“An elderly female cousin? Were there other Asburys at the wedding?”

“That I do not remember. I believe Miss Asbury was a relative on his mother’s side, perhaps even an aunt, but as I understand it, his mother had died before his marriage to my sister, and I know of no other relatives on that side.”

“I see. Thank you, Uncle.”

Elizabeth did not see. She soon went to bed, pleading a megrim. Attempting to sort out her roots had only tangled them more completely. Had Uncle Bennet lied about her father being Mr. Asbury? Was it possible even he did not know the gentleman’s name? Was she really in the same position as those foundlings? No, she was not. She knew her mother’s family. Once again, the only name she could rely on was Bennet. She was Elizabeth Bennet, or she was no one. She must accept that as truth. Family was about love, not blood, after all.

Another evidence of this truth came when Mary wrote to wish Elizabeth joy on her eighteenth birthday. Her letter cheered Elizabeth, as usual. Mary wrote that Mr. Lucas had become even more attentive recently. Elizabeth had thought it obvious at Christmas that he was in love with her, so she wondered what her cousin could mean. Aunt Bennet had also noticed and approved the match, but Uncle Bennet did not believe his daughters should marry as young as their mother had.

When Mary wrote less than a month later to say she and Mr. Lucas were unofficially engaged—because her father would not yet consent—Elizabeth was unsurprised. She wrote her congratulations to Mary and requested more details from Jane, who wrote longer and more frequent letters.

Jane wrote of Mary’s courtship and Mr. Lucas’s kindness to her. The sisters were excited to report in early April that he had been the one to finally convince their mother to allow Mary to wear her spectacles. He had begun casually mentioning how attractive he thought a woman in spectacles could be, and suddenly Aunt Bennet insisted Mary wear them. Jane thought they made Mary more beautiful than ever because she beamed at all the world around her that she had previously been forbidden from seeing.

After relying on his cousin Blakely to return Georgiana to school after Christmas and rejecting his Aunt Catherine’s plea to visit Rosings at Easter, Darcy had arrived in London in the middle of March to finally collect Georgiana from school himself. By correspondence, he had agreed to devote at least a fortnight to her entertainment.

She did not wish to return to Pemberley for her six-week break and had a list of activities for them to complete together. He was surprised by how many items on her list involved relatively quiet days together at home. Reading together, performing her music for him, sharing favorite meals, redecorating her private sitting room.

She also requested walks and rides in London parks, which she agreed to take before the fashionable hour, so he could avoid meeting with anyone he knew. Several times, they had been caught in the rain and forced to rush home, but Darcy had found it refreshing.

Of course, she had not forgotten his promise to take her to the Royal Menagerie, but he had so far put her off, largely due to the wet weather. He had no desire to revisit scenes that would draw Elizabeth to the forefront of his memories.

He had not put her out of his mind—had stopped trying, to be honest—but he had come to terms with the fact that as much as he had realized he loved her, he could not pursue her. He thought perhaps he would move on more quickly if he stopped fighting his feelings, but he did not wish to invite them in and dwell on them.

A promise was a promise, however, so on the first day filled with sunshine, they visited London Tower. Darcy had prepared for the excursion by reminding himself of Elizabeth’s unsuitability. An uncle who was a country squire with no connections, an uncle in trade who lived near Cheapside, and worst of all, a father who was in all likelihood a tenant farmer—probably a tenant of her uncle’s small estate.

Still, his carriage drew ever nearer to Gracechurch Street—he should have told his coachman to take a more circuitous route; he had not been to the area since that day with Elizabeth, having servants to shop in the market district when needed. His heart seemed to know she was there and needed to be even closer to her. He placed a hand on his chest as though to keep the unruly organ from painfully escaping.

“Brother, are you well?”

He looked wildly around the carriage for a moment before settling on his sister’s concerned face and nodding.