A Peculiar Connection by Jan Hahn Read Free Book Online Page A

disgrace. Common folk live with their sins; the gentry possess the means to hide theirs.”
    I closed my eyes and turned away. He patted my shoulder and then shuffled toward the side door. “Do not stay too long, my dear. The chill in the room will soon turn bitter.”
    I swallowed as I heard the door close behind him. I shall not weep again. I refuse to give in to grief any longer. I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and stepped out into the aisle to return to Longbourn. I was startled to see the form of a man standing beside the last pew at the rear of the building. The dim light was just enough for me to make out who stood privy to my conversation—Mr. Darcy.
    He wore his great coat and held his hat in his hand, apparently ready to leave. “Elizabeth.”
    “Sir.” I walked toward him, my head held high. “Is it your nature to listen in on private conversations?”
    “Of course not. I did not mean to overhear.”
    “And what brings you to God’s house—fervent need of prayer?”
    He smiled slightly. “You did not respond to my sister’s request, and Georgiana wished to bid you farewell. Someone said they saw you walk in the direction of the church.”
    “I see.”
    “Is that what drew you here—your need of prayer—or did you come to question the old vicar?”
    “We are all in need of prayer, sir. And no, I did not seek Mr. Fawcett. He found me here by chance.”
    “I see.”
    “I assume you heard what he said. It was the strangest thing.”
    “About the woman who gave you birth? Yes, I heard.”
    “Do you have knowledge of her family, Mr. Darcy?”
    He shook his head. “I cannot help but believe, though, that we might find the answer in Derbyshire.”
    “We?”
    “Elizabeth, if you consent to return to Pemberley with Georgiana and me, perchance we could find some bit of information about your mother. The attics are filled with old trunks containing various papers, records, and journals. Surely, somewhere someone wrote of your birth. If you will come, I will brook no obstacle to solve the mystery.”
    I frowned at him. “I do not consider that a prudent idea.”
    “What would be the harm in a visit? Tell me that if you can. Mrs. Annesley, my sister’s companion, travels with us, so everything would be in order. You would have a chaperone.”
    “Why must you insist on continuing your involvement in my life? I do believe you are the most stubborn man I have ever known.” I walked toward the door, but stopped short at the sight before me: snow now covered the village.
    “It seems we share the family trait, for you possess a stubbornness of your own. Here, take my coat; you cannot go out dressed as you are.”
    “No,” I said quickly. “I shall wait here until it slackens. Pray, go and bid your sister farewell on my behalf. I will send her a note tomorrow expressing my regret that I must forego her gracious invitation.”
    I felt his eyes upon me, and when I turned to meet them, I was surprised at the fire I saw therein. “I shall not part from you until you tell me the truth. Here, in this sacred place, one must not lie. I want to hear the true reason you wish to sever all contact between us.”
    “I beg to differ. You have oft been told the truth, and you refuse to accept it.”
    “When last we met, you spoke in anger—justifiable—yet anger. You said you do not want any of that which belonged to my father, but there is more. I can see it in your eyes.”
    “Indeed? And what more do you see?”
    “Mistrust. I believe you consider me faithless because of what occurred between us at Kent last Easter. You fear I cannot look upon you as a sister.”
    I caught my breath. Was I that transparent? My lip trembled, and I was afraid to move lest I confess to him more than I should.
    Turning to stare out at the snow, he began twirling his hat round and round. “I wrote in my letter that you need have no fear of my renewing those addresses you found so disgusting.”
    “Please, do not