A Peculiar Connection Read Online Free PDF Page A

said.”
    “Assailed by the shock of it all, how could you? Mr. Bennet gave the copy to me…if you care to read it now.” He reached inside his coat pocket and retrieved the worn, crinkled paper. My hand trembled slightly as I reached for it.
    6 December 1791
    Lewis,
    Tonight I must beg leave to call in all favours you owe me. After you receive this letter, take the child somewhere safe. Find an honest, discreet soul who will provide for her. Inform Barnesdale in London where to send her yearly support. If at all possible, keep this from Catherine so that my dearest Anne will never know. As you are well aware, her constitution is delicate, and I cannot bear to witness her disappointment.
    —George Darcy
    A hastily scrawled postscript was added below:
    9 December 1791
    Delivered the girl child to Fawcett in Hertfordshire this date.
    —Lewis de Bourgh
    I swallowed the lump in my throat and still found it hard to draw breath. The first date was the day I was born, the birthday I had celebrated for not quite one and twenty years, never knowing I had made a perilous journey that same night or shortly thereafter, hastily scurried away from Derbyshire to be hidden miles away in Hertfordshire. I thrust the paper toward him. “Do you think your mother ever knew?”
    “Dear God, I hope not!” Mr. Darcy began to pace again.
    I stood up and turned to leave. The disgust in his voice pierced my heart. I could feel the stricture in my throat begin anew and the sting of tears about to fall. I would not let him see me cry.
    “Excuse me,” I managed to whisper and began to climb the bank.
    “Elizabeth, wait!”
    I did not heed his command but hurried all the more as I heard his steps follow mine.
    “Why must you run away?” He caught my hand and attempted to halt my progress, but this time, I flung my wrist clear, shook my head, and walked even faster. Relentless and quicker than I, he soon blocked my path.
    “Mr. Darcy—” I attempted to push my way past, but he would not let me go. He placed his hands on my shoulders, and cupping his hand beneath my chin, he forced me to raise my face to his. I could no longer hide the tears.
    “Elizabeth, forgive me. Pray, do not cry. Come back, and let us talk.”
    I could not resist his strength or the kindness in his voice and once again allowed him to lead me to the rocks beside the water. There, he sat me down and knelt before me. No matter how I turned my face, he would not permit my escape from his persistent stare. His voice was soft and conciliatory. “Speak to me. Tell me what you are thinking.”
    “Why? What difference does it make? You cannot undo the past.”
    He shook his head slightly. “True, but with your consent, I can give you a more prosperous future.”
    “I told you last night that I did not want your father’s money, sir, nor do I want yours.”
    “Can you not see it belongs to you? Imagine what you could do and who you could be with the inheritance that rightfully belongs to Elizabeth Darcy.”
    Elizabeth Darcy. I closed my eyes when he said the words. I had dreamt of wearing that name as his wife, not his sister. Had he so easily put away his former feelings for me? My mind raced, searching for some way to turn our conversation to another matter and thus conceal my strong emotion.
    “Mr. Darcy, you must allow me to thank you for what you have done for my poor sister Lydia. My family would thank you if they knew, but because they do not, allow me to do so on their behalf.”
    He stiffened at my words and rose. He remained quiet while I explained that my youngest sister had let the story slip. I went on to assure him of my family’s gratitude and that of myself for not only the money his aid had cost him but also the humiliation he must have borne in securing my foolish sister’s marriage to George Wickham. “You must not feel you owe me anything more, sir, for I could never repay what you have already done for my family.”
    “Your family does not owe me