Page 117 of Lizzie's Spirit
Why would a marquess honour Mrs. Bennet? Why was Mr. Bennet leading the set with her ladyship, the Marchioness? Murmurs of recognition grew to a crescendo—Miss Elizabeth Bennet, gone from Longbourn these past five years—to New South Wales, ten thousand miles away, now come back: so elegant, such comportment, of rank and consequence far above those gathered in the room.
When the set finished, Elizabeth and Darcy made themselves acquainted with all of the principal people in attendance. When introduced to Sir William and Lady Lucas, Elizabeth took them aside to gain some privacy. “I wish to call, Lady Lucas, for I’ve some intelligence of Charlotte. I met her at the Cape; she is well and gave me her direction should you wish to write.”
Lady Lucas grasped Elizabeth’s hands. “Oh, Miss Elizabeth”—all formality lost to her emotion—“thank you, thank you ever so much. We were so grievously deceived by that man, who called himself a clergyman. He stole her away in the night… Now, to know that she is safe.”
Sir William took his wife in his arms. “This means much to Lady Lucas. You are welcome to call anytime, my lady.” Gently, he led his wife from the room. Tears gathering in her eyes, Elizabeth watched them depart. Darcy stepped closer.
“I believe Charlotte was a close friend. Sir William was her father?”
“Indeed, she has been most cruelly used. I’ve not told you of my meeting with her at Fort Frederick. There are some things best left unsaid. But she will do well, and if Mr. Collins is lost in the veld, all to the good.”
Elizabeth leant her head against his shoulder—“Oh, William, I am the luckiest person in the world.”
Reluctantly, she pulled back, placing her gloved hand once again on his arm. “We are in company, and a marchioness must always display the utmost decorum.” She looked to him, a delicate hue, matching her gown, flushed her cheeks. “But ‘tis well, my lord, that the bed at Longbourn is exceedingly soft—for little Ben wishes for a brother or sister.”
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