Alias Thomas Bennet (25 page)

“Please, Mr. Wickham, please let me be!” she cried, her face contorted with fear and pain.

“You cannot get away from me so easily, Miss Elizabeth,” he growled lasciviously. “Do you think I would let you return to Hertfordshire without my satisfaction? It will go easier if you are quiet.”

Elizabeth was frantic and tried even harder to pull away, the heels of her half-boots digging into the stones of the path, but his grip on her wrists was ferocious. Tears streamed down her face, so she barely saw Darcy jump from his mount and bound towards them.

“Mr. Darcy!” she screamed, while at the same time relaxing her struggle, in hope of redirecting Wickham’s attention.

In his shock, Wickham turned his head abruptly. In a final effort for release, Elizabeth urgently jerked her hands down and fell backwards as she became liberated from Wickham’s cruel grip, hitting the ground with brutal force. This allowed Darcy to knock the off-balance Wickham down. Darcy fell alongside him, but the scoundrel scurried out of reach and was quickly on his feet. Before Darcy could right himself, Wickham was off into the woods. Darcy took several steps to follow him when he heard Elizabeth’s sob.

“Elizabeth!” he cried as he rushed to her side and dropped to his knees. “My love, are you well? Did he hurt you?” He gathered her into his arms.

Her body was shaking uncontrollably as tears streamed down her face. Unable to catch her breath, she gasped, sobbed, and clung to him fiercely while he held her close and stroked her back, dropping soft kisses on her hair. At length, his whispered words of endearment achieved some small amount of calm in her distraught state. He took out his handkerchief and offered it to her to wipe her eyes.

“Are you hurt?” he asked softly.

“My wrists are sore, but I am embarrassed to say that my bottom has suffered the worst of it,” she said. “I do not know how I am to manage a carriage ride to Hertfordshire tomorrow!”

“Well, he did not harm your sense of humour.” A relieved Darcy rose and helped her to her feet. “Come, my love, I must deliver you back to the parsonage and then arrange for a party to search for Mr. Wickham.”

Suddenly, her eyes welled with tears. “Oh, no! Please do not try to find him, else everyone will know I was compromised!” She started to sob. “Fitzwilliam . . . Mr. Darcy . . . if you wish it, I will release you from our engagement.”

He quickly captured her in his arms, kissed her temple, and reassured her. “No, Elizabeth, I do not want to end our engagement. As soon as we return to Longbourn, I will go to your father, and then you will have no escape from marrying me.” He pulled his head back and lifted her chin. Her eyes evaded him, then they fluttered hesitantly to meet his, and she saw him smile.

Elizabeth took a shuddering breath as her tears subsided, and she tentatively returned his smile. He kissed the sides of her lips and then enticed her into a deeper kiss. He hoped to encourage her belief that he would keep her safe, though he was not sure how he would accomplish it with Wickham’s continued success at escaping incarceration.

Chapter 16:
Bennet recalls his past and gives his consent.

Midmorning, 13 April 1812
Longbourn, Hertfordshire

A simple question from Elizabeth after his proposal made Darcy think.

‘But what has my father told you?’

When she said the words ‘my father,’ he immediately assumed she was referring to Lord Shelton but then realized she meant Mr. Bennet. At first, he thought it was a mental mistake, made because he had read the letter from Thomas Bennet many times that day. But from their first meeting in Hertfordshire, Darcy had always felt that Bennet reminded him of someone he had known in the past. After careful consideration of his recollections of his father’s best friend, he realized that Bennet bore an uncanny resemblance to Lord Shelton.
Surely not . . .

With four days of contemplation, it was not at all difficult for Darcy to comprehend that it was not coincidence. He doubted that anyone else privy to the information would think that Bennet was actually Shelton; one had to know both men well to make the connection. It had been a long time, and faces blur as memories fade.

“Good day, Darcy. How do you do?”

“I am well, my lord. And how are you and all your family?”

“Darcy, dispense with the formalities,” he said as he motioned his friend to sit in a large wing chair near the fire. “You know me as Bennet, and it is the name I have become accustomed to. Lord Shelton is no more. I have not been that man for a long time. As to my family, we are all in good health, thank you.”

Darcy was anxious and knew Bennet would sense it. Although he had been summoned to discuss the business issues related to Lord Shelton’s will, he had an undoubtedly more important errand that morning—asking Bennet’s permission for Elizabeth’s hand. He felt a justifiable level of confidence that he would be successful given their friendship, but he also knew Bennet could raise multiple objections if he so desired.

Darcy was also interested in the circumstances behind his correct deduction that Bennet was actually Lord Shelton. With Bennet’s lack of denial, Darcy now was curious as to what his friend would disclose. That Bennet was not making eye contact indicated a disquiet equal to his own, thus Darcy hesitated to start the conversation. Thankfully, Bennet broke the silence by suggesting a glass of brandy, and Darcy gratefully accepted. When they were settled, Bennet took the conversation in hand.

“You are likely curious as to how all this occurred and want an explanation of how I could be both Thomas Bennet and Lord Shelton.”

“I am, sir.” Darcy adjusted himself in his chair. “I have thought much about it these few days. You could not have simply changed your name.”

“No, the story is much more complicated than that,” said Bennet. “Where to start?”

Darcy patiently waited while Bennet steepled his fingers and blew out a breath. A strange look passed over Bennet’s face as he tried to find the words, but then his brows folded together, his jaw clenched, and his expression became stormy.

“In 1792, my first wife was attacked in my home while I was away. Her attacker’s intentions were quite clear: he had arranged for a fire in the kitchens to distract the household staff while she received him in the parlour. As he attempted to assault her in the most indecent manner, he was intercepted. She fell and struck her head against the sideboard, and shortly thereafter, Lady Shelton died from the concussion she received. You cannot imagine my pain. Your father brought the scoundrel the news that I was challenging him to a duel and acted as my second.”

Darcy’s eyes widened. This was not at all the answer he was expecting. Bennet leapt abruptly from his chair and briskly paced the floor of his library, quite distracted. He finally stopped and leaned against the mantle, gripping it fiercely with one hand, and continued speaking with a fury that Darcy had never seen on the countenance of his otherwise calm and collected friend.

“Her attacker, Lord Malcolm”—Bennet spat out the abhorrent name—“was a marquess in his own right and the son of a very influential duke. Both were dissolute libertines of the worst kind, known for violently assaulting women using the pretext of seduction, but usually the victims were of lower rank, and their protectors were unable to retaliate. Because the Duke of Ellisbury owned property in both Derbyshire and Gloucestershire, their debauchery was known there and in every county between.

“Father and son were also immoral gamblers and schemers with the reputation of over-imbibing spirits. On the day of the duel, Malcolm showed up totally foxed. I offered to defer the challenge to another day, but Malcolm would have none of it. His drunkenness did little to alter his skill with a pistol, and his shot grazed my left arm. I had only intended a leg wound, but my shot hit an artery, thus causing Malcolm’s death in vengeance for Lady Shelton’s. Days later, your good father overheard a conversation at White’s that there were wagers being made on whether the Duke of Ellisbury, Malcolm’s father, would influence the House of Lords to force a heavy penalty on me for murder while engaged in a duel.

“Darcy, the blackguard would never end his persecution of me. Even in death, his revenge was complete because my two very young daughters would be tainted by the scandal. I was left with no choice but to exile myself. Friends of your father helped me to quickly board a ship bound for Bermuda with the girls. I had taken all the money I was able to free up, but I had to travel incognito.”

“And it was then that you became Bennet?” asked Darcy.

Bennet shook his head. “No. I used an alias of John Miles, taken from my real name of Miles Lydon, Earl of Shelton.”

“I’m not following.” Darcy’s brow furrowed.

“During the voyage, I met the real Thomas Bennet along with Bennet’s new wife, Fanny.”

Darcy’s lips formed a grim line as he considered the possibilities of how Shelton had taken Thomas Bennet’s identity. He quickly realized that his face reflected his train of thought when Bennet uttered words of reassurance.

“Do not distress yourself, old man. The real Thomas Bennet died from pneumonia during the trip to Bermuda. Prior to his passing, it was he who proposed the identity exchange. He and I were very nearly identical in appearance, and it was unlikely anyone would recognise me in Bermuda where neither of us had acquaintance.”

“So you lived in Bermuda for some time,” Darcy said, and Bennet nodded.

“Bermuda was good to us,” he said reflectively as he dropped into the chair across from Darcy. “We became a family there.”

“Bermuda has a reputation for being a centre of slave trade,” Darcy said with a scowl. Although he could not imagine his friend’s involvement in such a business, he had already been shaken by the revelation of the identity exchange.

Bennet waved a hand. “The slave trade was—is—a lucrative business for men who live in the West Indies, exporting Africans for unpaid lifelong indenture in the Americas. I became involved in a group that was trying to eliminate it. I purchased freedom for a number of slaves and found them respectable employment in my home as well as in the homes of other anti-slavery English colonists. When we returned to England, we brought our most trusted African servants, Mr. and Mrs. Akuete, who were high-born in their home country of Nigeria. You know them as our steward and housekeeper.”

“But how came you to live at Longbourn?” asked Darcy.

“Two years into my exile, I received a letter informing me that Thomas Bennet had inherited an estate called Longbourn in Hertfordshire. I had a choice to make—return to England as Thomas Bennet or forfeit Longbourn and take back the Shelton name. The latter choice would disclose my deception and shame both families. Mrs. Bennet feared that not enough time had passed, and my enemies would still try to get revenge regarding the duel. We decided it would be best to keep the identity of Thomas Bennet.”

“So hiding as a country gentleman was your safest choice at the time.”

Bennet acknowledged the comment with a simple nod. “We are quite content with our modest life in Hertfordshire. Mrs. Bennet has told me many times how she prefers it to her previous homes in Bermuda and Gloucestershire. There is something about the simplicity of our lives and the warmth of our neighbourhood that give us extraordinary sources of happiness.”

Bennet clasped his hands, placed his elbows on his knees, and leaned in to speak earnestly.

“I am well aware of my dishonesty towards society, and I still do not know clearly whether my actions were sound. While it is of no little importance to me that my daughters have been spared the spectre of my crimes haunting them, I know I have denied them a life with the respect they were due from society, especially Jane and Elizabeth. The younger girls also would have benefited from exposure to the best circles.

“But I must ask you not to share this conversation with others. It could affect my family detrimentally were society to find out that I have deceived them for so long.”

Darcy recalled the reason he had been summoned—to answer to his responsibilities as stated in Lord Shelton’s will. Even though that was a straightforward matter of apprising his friend of the state of the lands and finances, an inevitable question arose.

“Are you going to tell Lady Jane and Lady Elizabeth more than just
their
identities and fortune?”

“I do not know. I will have to decide that today.”

Darcy was unsure how to approach this situation. If he were to marry Elizabeth, he would become bound to the deception and undoubtedly feel some guilt at intentionally misleading others. However, upon reflection, he realized he had no choice. Even if he did not necessarily like some of his friend’s past actions, he understood that, many years ago, there was little choice left to Bennet, and he had done what he felt was best to protect his daughters. Bennet interrupted his thoughts.

“Have you any more questions before we commence our business? I assume that is why you have come so early.”

Darcy abruptly recalled his true mission that morning and uneasiness enveloped him. It was tempting to delay the interview in favour of discussing the will, which was Bennet’s expectation. His distraction drew his friend’s attention.

Bennet was surprised to see Darcy become flushed and uncomfortable. He knew this reaction could not merely be the result of the previous discussion or from the intended conference regarding the girls’ inheritance. He became concerned as to what would cause Darcy to be so discomposed but decided to hold his tongue and allow his friend to overcome his hesitance.