Foundation of Love: The Gypsy Blessing 2 (28 page)

“Who told you about Caroline?”

Elizabeth took a deep breath. “The day of the ribbon cutting, Georgiana told me about your being uncomfortable with big social situations like that—don’t be angry at her either, Will; she didn’t mean any harm. Anyway, Georgie thought that having someone you knew near you would put you more at ease, and since I was working for the architectural team, she asked if I could keep an eye on you. Anne overheard me say I didn’t want it to look like I was stalking you. Anne explained about Caroline so I wouldn’t say those words in front of you or Charles.”

“Oh, so
that’s
why you were acting so strangely that day. I thought it was because—” He stopped speaking abruptly as he watched her cheeks turn pink. Just knowing Elizabeth was thinking of having seen him naked made his breath catch in his throat.

~

Was he about to mention her being in the room when he stepped out of the shower? Elizabeth looked away, but not in time to hide her blush. Although she’d never forget those few moments, she did
not
want to discuss that situation with him. Too much of her true feelings might be revealed.

“Nevermind...” he muttered.

Looking to change the subject, and quickly, Elizabeth asked, “What was in your picture?”

He sat down heavily on the couch. “I’ll tell you if you really want to know, Elizabeth—but I have to say, it isn’t good.”

There was such gravity in his eyes, she was afraid to hear what he had to say, but she
had
to know. She nodded.

“Lydia and Wickham being handcuffed by the police.” He looked away quickly.

She
knew
there was more. As she looked at him, somehow she already knew there were two more pictures and knew what they showed. “Wickham gets off free, and Lydia goes to jail.”

His surprised expression said it all. “How—”

Elizabeth shook her head. “I just know.” She pointed to her phone. “The same way I know that if I prevent this picture, yours will be prevented, too. Lydia hasn’t done anything illegal yet.”

“Can’t we warn Lydia about him?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Lydia is not a person who takes advice to heart unless it’s exactly what she already wants to do. She’s more likely to do the opposite of what we advise. In fact, I’d predict that she would think our warning to be so funny that she’d tell Wickham everything we said, which would only force him to do something even more drastic than he had originally planned. You know very well that Wickham is just as charming as my mother claims he is. If even Georgiana didn’t heed my warnings due to her infatuation with Wickham, I’m sure he could convince
Lydia
to do almost anything, especially if he presented it the right way—as a joke. He’s had plenty of time to learn that about her, Will, and he’s smart enough to use it to his advantage.”

William sighed.

“What happened with Wickham in California?”

“He
said
he couldn’t find any work nearby, so he had to get a job in another state.” William rose and walked over to the glass doors. “I told him he couldn’t have the two payments he had missed, but I stupidly gave him the current one. I felt better that he had returned to California—safer.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I probably funded his trip back here
and
whatever it is he has planned against you.”

Elizabeth bent to lean her elbows on her knees. She rubbed her temples. “Why does everything have to happen at once, Will? Haven’t we already had enough today? Your meeting with Wickham, my
meeting
with Smith, and now these horrible pictures?”

“You’re right. Let’s go through the trunk.”

Elizabeth looked up, surprised. “The trunk?”

“Yeah, let’s take our mind off all that and go through Elizabeth Darcy’s things. Whenever I’m overwhelmed, distraction always helps. While I’m thinking of something else, my mind keeps working on the problem without my being aware of it, and sometimes solutions just pop into my head.”

“Lydia is staying home, so we don’t have to worry about anything happening to her tonight.” She shrugged. “It’s worth a try.”

William settled the trunk in the middle of the room, next to Elizabeth’s chair.

“Just for the heck of it, try opening it again.”

He did, but the top wouldn’t budge.

She lifted the top with one finger. “I still can’t believe I can open it without any effort.”

“If you’d like, I can bring in some power tools...” He smiled mischievously.

She giggled. “I don’t think so.”

Since he hadn’t seen all of the drawings yet, William went through them. Meanwhile, Elizabeth lifted a package wrapped in paper and tied with string. This was one that she had opened once before, and she knew the contents, but for some reason, she didn’t want to show it to William. Inside was the cobalt blue gown that Elizabeth Darcy had worn in the painting now in hanging Pemberley’s gallery.

One of these days, I’m going to give in to temptation and try on this gown,
she thought as she placed it carefully on her father’s desk. As she lifted another package, the string untied and the paper fell open revealing a beautiful shawl. She couldn’t resist wrapping it around her shoulders.

William smiled at her. “That’s nice.”

She met his gaze, her eyes filled with tears as she brought the cloth to her nose and inhaled. “I can smell her,” she whispered and held the end out so he could smell it, too.

He swallowed hard.

“It matches the description of the shawl that Regency Georgiana gave to Elizabeth the night she saved her from Wickham,” she forced out through the lump in her throat.

Elizabeth could have sworn she saw William shiver.

“The similarities are amazing,” he murmured.

“I haven’t finished reading the journal, but I flipped ahead and landed on that day. It happened a lot earlier in our timeframe than it did back then... and very differently.”

The paper the shawl had been wrapped in fell off her lap, and a letter fluttered to the floor. Both Elizabeth and William froze, staring at it.

After a minute, William asked, “Aren’t you going to open it?”

Elizabeth nodded, her eyes never leaving the letter.

William lifted it from the floor and handed it to her. She broke the seal with trembling hands.

Dear Elizabeth,

Today, as I remove this shawl from my shoulders, I knew, instinctively, that at this very moment, I must place it for you within our hope chest. I will give you a history of such.

Many years ago, my husband gave it to his sister as a gift. One fateful night, she gifted it to me, but not as a reminder of that terrible evening—it was a remembrance of the sisterly love we have felt for each other since the moment we met. Georgiana and I have always shared a special connection and friendship, and it was only made stronger by assisting each other through a series of difficult events, of which, no doubt, you are already familiar. I have worn it many times in my life, mostly when I felt lonely or afraid. For some reason, the drawing of you has entered my mind every time I place it on my shoulders and whenever I remove it.

As you know, I understood certain things about the drawings when I looked at them. It is the same when I hold this shawl at this moment. I know I am meant to pass it on to you because, other than Georgiana, Fitzwilliam, and me,
you
are the only one who will fully understand what we experienced on the day she gifted it to me. We are connected in a similar way.

A chill passed through me as I wrote the words above. Something is changing. You will
not
be alone in your understanding, after all!

I cannot help but smile at the revelation that has only just come over me. There is another of our descendants with you as you open this letter, is there not? My goodness, this is extraordinary, as it has never before occurred. It is as if I can see the man you are with as you read this! I do wish I could draw, or that the gypsies had made a sketch of this man, as well. Fitzwilliam would love to see him, too, just as he often views the picture I have received of you.

I will make an attempt at drawing him in the special journal I have kept for you. I am certain you and he shall laugh at my lack of talent, but I assure you, it will be the best I can do.

I feel that you already have, but in case I am wrong, please tell him of us, dear? And pass on our regards.

My husband is expected to arrive home from London soon, so I must go now. I am thankful that the railroad has made travel much faster, but I still miss him terribly when he is away.

I will write again, my dear.

Yours, etc.

Elizabeth

With a brilliant smile and tears streaming down her cheeks, she handed the letter to William, and without a word, began paging through Elizabeth Darcy’s journal.

William’s voice was hoarse when he said, “They knew I’d be here with you.”

“Here it is!”

William moved quickly to her side and looked over her shoulder. She giggled. “She’s right—it isn’t very good, but she has enough at least to have given him an idea of what you would look like. I wish I could email her a photo of all their descendants we know. Anne took quite a few pictures when you all were staying here over Memorial Day weekend.”

“The next time you and Georgiana have vacation time, we should go to England, so you can see where they lived and see the portrait for yourself. I’d like to go through the attics to see if there is anything else up there from them.”

Her eyes filled with tears again as she pulled the shawl more tightly around her shoulders. “That would be wonderful, Will. Thank you.”

He held her gaze for a few seconds before he looked away and cleared his throat. “Any other treasures in the bottom of the trunk?”

“There are, but I usually let my intuition guide me on which I should open—and which I should not share.” She smiled impishly. “This one...”

Elizabeth lifted a small package out of the trunk. It was about the size of the palm of her hand, wrapped in a silk handkerchief, and tied up with a ribbon that was the same color as the exquisite gown she knew she should not show William at this time.

“This handkerchief is for you, Will. What’s inside it is for me.”

As Elizabeth untied the ribbon on the small package, the Darcy crest was revealed, embroidered across the handkerchief.

“Georgiana must have embroidered this—from what Elizabeth says, she’s not nearly as proficient as her sister-in-law.” Elizabeth looked up at William. “Do you think we’ll ever tell your sister about any of this, Will?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it. Why?”

“I can’t explain it yet.” She shook her head. “I’ll tell you when I know for sure.”

Elizabeth carefully opened the handkerchief and gasped. Inside was a pendant with a deep blue stone at the center, surrounded by silver filigree. The color of the stone matched the gown, and Elizabeth somehow knew the gown had been dyed to match this necklace.

“I recognize it from the drawings—it’s the necklace the gypsies gave her. The one that saved her life.” She held it up by the chain. “It’s so beautiful!”

William took it from her. “It’s silver. I can’t believe it’s been in that trunk for two hundred years and it never tarnished.”

“Could it be white gold?”

“It’s not heavy enough.” He shook his head. “Gold is almost twice as heavy as silver.”

William looked at the clasp. After seeing how it worked, he stood behind Elizabeth and placed it around her neck. His hands lingered on her shoulders.

“Do you think I should?” She looked over her shoulder at him. “
You’ve
inherited the Darcy estate, Will. Really, it should be yours.”

She could see his chest move suddenly, as if he had taken in a quick breath, but she heard nothing. If she had to put a name to the expression on his face, she would have to call it shame, but it didn’t make sense with the situation, so she dismissed her impression.

He cleared his throat. “She left it to
you.
She wanted you to have it.” He smiled slightly. “Besides, didn’t the gypsy insist that the necklace belonged to Elizabeth Bennet? You’re the only Elizabeth Bennett that I know.”

~

How could I have thought this woman was anything like the greedy mercenaries I’ve come up against in the past? If I had put that necklace on any of
them
, there would have been no question as to their accepting it. They would never have thought of it as mine to begin with. The sincerity in Elizabeth’s eyes—I’ve never known a person less selfish. I wish I could tell her that even if it were mine, she should consider it hers. If I could, I’d love to share all I have with her.

“Everything in that trunk is yours, Elizabeth.”

When William realized his fingertips had been gently tracing her collarbone as he ruminated, he eased his hands away from her, pulling her silky hair back behind her shoulders. “Let’s see how it looks.” He moved around in front of her and smiled. “Beautiful,” he declared, not really referring to the necklace at all.