With My Whole Heart Forever Read online

  CHAPTER 3

  ~ Wednesday, 17 July 1811

  The next morning, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner arrived with their three children. Kitty and Lydia took the youngsters into the garden whilst the parents headed inside with Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, Jane, Mary, and Elizabeth. After luncheon, Elizabeth and her aunt and uncle piled into the coach and began their four-day journey northward.

  On Saturday, the third morning of their trip, as Elizabeth and the Gardiners broke their fast, the coachman came into the dining room. “This express came for ye, Mr. Gardiner.”

  With great emotion, Mrs. Gardiner asked, “Is it from Longbourn, Edward? Did something happen to one of the children?”

  Uncle Edward turned the missive over and shook his head. “It originates from Derbyshire, dear. It seems it was sent to our home in London and then on to Longbourn. Thomas must have anticipated our travelling schedule and forwarded it here.”

  Aunt Madeline’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but her attention was wholly focused on the letter. “Derbyshire? From my sister, then?”

  Uncle Edward passed off some coin to the coachman to pay the express rider and then broke the seal. “It is from your sister’s husband. It seems your sister and her two eldest boys have fallen ill. The doctor’s prognosis is good, but only if they remain abed.”

  He lifted his wife’s hand in one of his and gave it a squeeze. “However, your sister is only becoming weaker because she is caring for the family at the expense of her own health. Their sons also keep trying to get out of bed to go to work, even though they can barely stand. Our brother-in-law begs for your assistance with the household and the children and for my help with the farm.”

  Uncle Edward raised his eyebrows. “It has been many years since I have done any farming, but I am sure it will come back to me once we are there.”

  He turned to Elizabeth. “I am sorry to disrupt your holiday, my dear. If we were closer to Longbourn, we could turn around and return you there before continuing to Lambton, but as it is…”

  “Do not fret, Uncle,” said Elizabeth. “I shall be happy to come with you. I will assist Aunt Madeline with the housework, and I am quite good at caring for the sick.”

  “I will not risk your becoming unwell, Lizzy,” her uncle said. “I will send a note to your father detailing our change in plans and promising that you will not be exposed to this illness.”

  Her aunt said, “This will not be what you are used to, dear. While it is a large, lovely farmhouse, it is still a tenant farm, not a gentleman’s manor house. I am unsure of the sleeping arrangements, but since I lived in that house all of my youth, I believe you and I may have to share a room. Edward will have to sleep with the youngest boy.” She looked at him with an expression of apology. “My maid might be able to help us both dress, but she will also be needed to assist with the housework. For all else, you will have to tend to yourself. Of course, nothing further will be expected of you. My nieces and I will be responsible for the cooking.”

  “I can be of some use, can I not? If I am called upon to help in the kitchen, I promise never to breathe a word of it at home.” She winked at her aunt. “In fact, I became quite good at making pies whilst visiting my friend Charlotte in Kent. Once, I even helped her dress a roast.”

  “Your assistance with the children would certainly be welcome,” her aunt said with an air of relief. “The surrounding area is quite beautiful if you care to explore it on foot. If my family recovers quickly enough, we may still be able to travel a little and see some sights.”

  “Then it is settled,” said her uncle. “I believe from here we can retrace our course and arrive at the farmhouse in a matter of hours.”

  Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy knocked on the door to his sister’s bedchamber. He paused. The only sound he could make out through the door was his sister’s sobs.

  His heart squeezed painfully.

  “Georgie?”

  He knocked harder. The sobbing ceased.

  “Georgiana? Please let me in.”

  He pressed his ear against the cold wood of the door. The rustling of skirts gave way to banging sounds, which raised his anxiety to the point of panic.

  He had posted a footman outside her windows; thus, he knew she could not be trying to escape again — trying to distance herself from him, imagining that he was better off without her in his life. And certainly, no one could have gotten past his staff and into her rooms to harm her.

  The banging started up again. What on earth was going on in there?

  Darcy pulled a set of keys from his pocket. With trembling hands, he fumbled through them, searching for the one that would open this door. He should have listened to his cousin Richard and put it on a separate ring so it would be more readily available. Or perhaps he should have removed the lock completely.

  Before he could find the correct one, the door swung open.

  He breathed a sigh of relief. Georgiana was safe!

  He took a step forward, placing his foot where it would be in the way if she chose to slam the door, as she had done four days ago, which was the last time he had seen her.

  As she backed away out of the shadows near the door, his eyes widened.

  The maids reported she had not shown an interest in much of anything since they left Ramsgate two weeks ago, but he had not expected to find her in such a state as this.

  Georgiana might be safe, but she was not at all well.

  Her cheeks were marred with red patches. A bird’s nest of knotted blonde hair was plastered to her head. She had always been a bit too thin for her frame, but now, her gown hung almost as loose as if she were a child trying on her mother’s dress.

  Georgiana looked up. Her eyes were swollen and ringed with crimson. Her mouth was chapped, her lips cracked.

  Good Lord! He never should have indulged her wish for privacy.

  “Georgie,” he breathed.

  “Do not call me that,” she whispered.

  “What?” he croaked past a throat tight with emotion.

  “It is what he called me,” she answered with a trembling voice.

  Darcy reached out to touch her shoulder, but she moved away, out of his reach.

  Did she still blame him for surprising her at Ramsgate and chasing George Wickham away from her? For preventing her from ruining her life by eloping with the cur?

  During their discussion following her attempt to climb down from her balcony several days ago, Darcy thought she had understood why he had done it. She told him she listened to his interview with Wickham. She heard Wickham admit that he never loved Georgiana… that he only wanted to marry her to gain control over her thirty-thousand-pound dowry.

  What changed since then?

  Darcy cleared his throat and took in a deep breath in an attempt to remain calm. “May I call you Georgiana?”

  “No!” she cried. “Nothing that reminds me of George Wickham.”

  She backed away further. At least she had not tried to lock him out again.

  “Ana,” she whispered. “I shall only answer to Ana from now on.”

  Had Wickham tainted every aspect of his innocent little sister’s life?

  Darcy should have challenged the scoundrel to a duel and struck him dead.

  When Georgiana left school, he should have found a companion for his sister himself and not trusted his aunt to do it for him.

  He should have refrained from paying off Wickham’s debts through the years and allowed him to go to debtor’s prison long before he harmed his sister.

  And he should have allowed his father to see Wickham’s true character instead of protecting the elder Darcy from the pain of knowing his godchild was, in truth, a reprobate.

  Darcy blinked, trying to clear the red of his rage from his vision.

  But would his father have believed it of Wickham, his favourite? Or would the elder Darcy have thought his son was jealous of the attention he paid his steward’s boy? Would it have been for naught?

  If he had done these things, would non
e of this be happening now?

  If his sister had known what Wickham was, would she have been safe from his charms?

  Darcy cast off these thoughts. There was no sense in dwelling on what he could never know. Living in the past would help no one. He could only control what would happen from this day forward.

  “What can I do to ease your pain, Ana?”

  The name almost choked him. Would calling her “Ana” remind him of his failures as her guardian for the remainder of his life?

  “Nothing will ever ease my pain,” she murmured.

  Snippets of memories of his sister the way she was before the events of this past summer flooded his mind.

  Perhaps he was going about this in the wrong way? Stubbornly putting one’s all into rising above a challenge was a trait all their Fitzwilliam relations shared, including Georgiana. And himself.

  He would find a way to help her.

  “Ana,” he pronounced carefully, “if you give up, Wickham wins.”

  She straightened her neck, almost imperceptibly. Her eyebrow twitched.

  Excitement bubbled in his chest. Had he hit upon the correct theme? “I am certain he still has spies in the area — those who remain loyal to him instead of to the Darcys, whether their reasons are naively innocent or they perceive they have been wronged by our family in the past, as does Wickham. If you spend your days in your rooms, pining over what you thought he was instead of facing the truth of who he is, Wickham will know of it.”

  Darcy’s stomach churned. A minute passed as she stared at the carpet with a blank expression.

  “If you surrender to despair, he succeeds in exacting his misguided revenge upon our family, even if he does not have the prize of your dowry in his pocket.”

  Two minutes more. Three.

  Just as he opened his mouth to speak again, she said, “I would like to play the pianoforte.”

  He nodded. It was a start. “Shall I send word to the kitchens to prepare water for a bath, then?”

  One slender hand made its way to her hair. A hint of a blush tinted her cheeks. “Yes, please.”

  “And perhaps a light meal?”

  She nodded.

  He walked over to her dressing room and knocked. Georgiana’s personal maid peeked around the door.

  “Miss Darcy would like some broth and toast, Marie. And have a bath drawn for her.”

  Relief settled over Marie’s features. “Yes, Mr. Darcy.” She curtsied and closed the door.

  Georgiana peered up at him, looking more like a frightened deer than a girl of fifteen. “What can I do to make you forgive me, Fitzwilliam?”

  “Dearest, you must understand there is nothing to forgive. You were deceived by a master — one who fooled even our father while he was alive. The only thing I ask is that you learn to forgive yourself.” Darcy kissed his sister on the forehead. “I love you, Dove.”

  Her lower lip quivered. “You do?”

  His heart ached at the surprise in her voice.

  “Absolutely.” He pulled her into a brotherly embrace and pressed his lips to her knotted hair. “No matter what happens, I will always love you.”

  There was a tremble in her sigh. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For saving me.” She pulled away and looked up at him. “Again.”

  CHAPTER 4

  ~ Ten days later, 30 July 1811

  Although Elizabeth had never caught any illness more serious than a cold since she was a little girl, and she had offered aid and comfort to many an ill tenant at Longbourn and, more recently, at Netherfield. Yet, she was banned from the sickrooms at the Johnstons’ home. She remained occupied with entertaining the two youngest Johnston girls and the youngest boy.

  When the children were busy with their chores, she pitched in with sewing and mending — which seemed to be an unending task at a tenant farm with seven children. Though her aunt and uncle were not aware, Elizabeth also dusted the furnishings, freeing up Aunt Madeline’s maid to do other things. Elizabeth soon convinced her aunt to allow her to bake pies as a treat for the family, as Charlotte had taught her to do at Hunsford.

  A couple of mornings, the children directed Elizabeth to places where berries could be found, ripe for picking, pointing out the best walking paths along the way, which she took full advantage of whenever she could. Twice she had been called upon to escort the children into the village to fetch or order supplies, and she loved every minute of the one-mile hike to Lambton.

  By the end of the week, she had learned her way around the area between the Johnstons’ home and the village reasonably well.

  The Johnstons’ charming farmhouse was on the outskirts of a great estate. The estate itself was as large as it was diverse, and there were beauties to be found everywhere she could reach on foot. Elizabeth explored the grounds in the afternoon after making her pies when her charges were occupied with learning tasks from their older sisters.

  As her aunt had pledged, Derbyshire was lovely. Judging by their drive through the countryside to get here, this estate seemed to be prime land, and she judged the owner as fortunate indeed. The rolling hills of this county were a refreshing change from the relative flatlands of Hertfordshire, and for some reason, colours seemed more vibrant here than they were at home.

  This afternoon, Elizabeth finished her sewing and baking early and was dusting the parlour before heading outdoors for her walk when her aunt came upon her.

  “Oh, no, Lizzy! Please,” Aunt Madeline cried as she entered the room. “You should not perform menial tasks such as this. Your mother will never allow you to travel with us again!”

  “My mother rarely approves of the things I do. If you do not tell her, I promise I will not.” Elizabeth rose from her crouched position, necessary to wipe clean the bottom shelf of the Johnston family’s bookcase. “I have finished now anyway, Aunt, but really, a little dusting is no trouble. The girls are busy with their work, and Uncle will not allow me to attend the sick.” She lowered her voice in case anyone was nearby. “You and uncle have appeared so tired of late. Please, you must let me do something to help. Besides, you know how I dislike being idle.”

  “You are a blessing, dear.” Her aunt patted her forehead with a handkerchief. “But this was supposed to be a holiday for you. I hope you will find something pleasurable to do, as well.”

  “Unless you need me for something, I will obey your edict and go for a walk.”

  Aunt Madeline wished her a pleasant time and headed up the stairs to the sick rooms.

  This was not much of a holiday for her aunt or uncle, either, Elizabeth mused. Yes, her uncle had tried his hand at farming in this area years ago — which is how he met his wife — but he had not been successful and decided to follow his father into trade instead. In recent years, his business had become profitable enough for him to oversee the work instead of engaging in manual labour. While her aunt had been the daughter of a tenant farmer, since marrying her uncle, Aunt Madeline’s experience had been limited to managing their house in London and raising their children. Neither had done this kind of work for many years.

  Life on a tenant farm was much different than living in a townhouse in London or a manor house in the country, or at least it was substantially dissimilar to her own family’s routines.

  At home, it was Elizabeth’s preference to walk out while the remainder of her family were still abed, so she was accustomed to being the only inhabitant to rise with the first rays of the sun. But at the Johnston household, waking at daybreak would be considered “sleeping in.”

  The Johnston family began their day with chores, then they broke their fast, after which the females continued to work in and near the house, and the menfolk headed out to tend crops. The mid-day meal was a quick event, and oft-times, the older girls staggered their mealtimes, depending on what tasks they needed to accomplish that day. Uncle Edward, Mr. Johnston, and the only son who was old enough and healthy enough to work in the fields brought their luncheon along with
them. Elizabeth took her noon meal with her charges. The older males returned with just enough time to wash up before the evening meal, which, with no afternoon tea, was earlier than was the habit of the gentry. After a few more chores close to the farmhouse, the family sat together for a short time to discuss the happenings of the day, and then all retired early. They all worked so hard, she imagined they fell into bed and were asleep instantly.

  Love and a pleasant camaraderie were evident in each exchange between members of the Johnston clan. There was minimal bickering between siblings, as she was used to hearing from her younger sisters.

  Although Elizabeth did all she could to be useful at home, there was a different kind of value to the tasks she performed since her arrival in Derbyshire. She was not at all unhappy with the prospect of remaining here another few weeks.

  Elizabeth stopped walking and turned to look at the pretty picture the farmhouse and crops made. The road she had chosen to take today, which was more like a cart-path, led down the middle of a field and ended directly before the Johnstons’ house, where another road ran perpendicular. The farmhouse was in good repair. Flowered vines climbed the walls, and the perfect cutting garden was planted just in front. It was a lovely prospect.

  She lifted her chin heavenward. The sun warmed her face. She inhaled deeply, savouring the sweet apple-like perfume carried on the breeze from the fields of chamomile lining both sides of the road. The almost constant pleasant aroma would be something she would miss when she left this place. Perhaps she would plant more chamomile in the gardens at Longbourn.

  All in all, her first two weeks had been pleasant. If Aunt Madeline’s sister and two nephews had not been ill, Elizabeth would be quite content.

  As Georgiana gently touched the notes of the final minor chord, Darcy sighed with relief.

  Her London Master would be proud, for his sister’s talent had developed substantially. However, the reason behind the maturation of her ability tortured Darcy’s soul. At the moment, her preferred repertoire was limited to what seemed to be the most mournful songs in existence, and each tune was a constant reminder of his failure to protect her.