eyes and fair colouring.”
“And you have her dimples.”
“Do I?”
“When you smile. ’Tis one of your best features you might exhibit more often.”
We walked on down the hall while he named grandparents and various relations on his mother’s side of the family. Then he stopped in front of a portrait of a young man and woman.
“These were our father’s parents—your grandparents, Elizabeth—James and Siobhan Darcy.”
“Siobhan? Was she Irish?”
“To the core. As a young man, my grandfather sailed to County Cork and spent the summer there with friends from Cambridge. He fell in love with Siobhan MacAnally, the daughter of a landed family that harked back for generations. Her father forbade the marriage, but they eloped anyway. She gave up her entire family to marry my grandfather and return to Derbyshire with him.”
I frowned. “Gave up her family? Did they never reconcile?”
Mr. Darcy shook his head. “It could not be done. Her choice was entirely insupportable.”
“But surely, one would not disinherit a daughter simply because she loved an Englishman.”
“It was not just nation but religion that separated them. Our grandmother was Catholic, and our grandfather, of course, was not. She was required to renounce her religion and rear her children as Protestant. In truth, Father said his parents attempted to hide all traces of her former faith once they settled in England.”
“Of course. Her husband would have endured persecution if she did not. How difficult it must have been for her.”
Mr. Darcy walked on a few paces, stared at the floor, and lowered his voice even more. “Few know this, but Grandmother continued to practice her faith in secret.”
“In secret?”
“In public, she attended services with her husband and children at the village church, but whenever possible, she stole away to visit a priest who maintained a small Catholic church just past the edge of the wood. He tended a small flock that clung to the Papist belief. The church remains to this day.”
“And did your grandfather know?”
He nodded and smiled. “My father said his father permitted it because he loved her. He found it hard to deny her anything even though his own family was not at all pleased that my grandfather married beneath him.”
“Beneath him? I thought her family prosperous.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Irish and Catholic? ’Twas unacceptable. Besides, Grandfather married her without her father’s consent. She came to him without a dowry. Yes, I would say he married below his station, but then, he married for love.”
His eyes met mine, and for one unguarded moment, it was as though I caught a glimpse of his soul. Almost immediately, however, he cleared his throat and marched on ahead. “That is sufficient for today. I shall not bore you with more family history. Let us walk on to the opposite wing of the house. I want you to see the ballroom.”
I had to hurry to catch up with his long stride, but not before I turned and looked into the green eyes of Siobhan Darcy once more. I felt a chill run down my spine when I recognized that they were mine.
][
By nightfall, Mr. Darcy had exhibited the entire great house, save the attics. We agreed to postpone those for a day when we had adequate time to devote to our quest. I was pleased to know he had not abandoned his offer to search for knowledge of my birth. I had feared it might have been simply a scheme to entice me to visit Pemberley.
A welcome break in the weather occurred on the morrow, and we enjoyed four glorious days of sunshine. Mr. Darcy took advantage of it to show me the grounds. Even covered in snow, I could see the gardens were outstanding and that I had experienced only the briefest of tours during my visit the previous summer. The stables were filled with thoroughbreds, and he took pride in naming each horse’s forebears—all superior pedigrees, I am certain, had I known anything about breeds. He was surprised when I
“And you have her dimples.”
“Do I?”
“When you smile. ’Tis one of your best features you might exhibit more often.”
We walked on down the hall while he named grandparents and various relations on his mother’s side of the family. Then he stopped in front of a portrait of a young man and woman.
“These were our father’s parents—your grandparents, Elizabeth—James and Siobhan Darcy.”
“Siobhan? Was she Irish?”
“To the core. As a young man, my grandfather sailed to County Cork and spent the summer there with friends from Cambridge. He fell in love with Siobhan MacAnally, the daughter of a landed family that harked back for generations. Her father forbade the marriage, but they eloped anyway. She gave up her entire family to marry my grandfather and return to Derbyshire with him.”
I frowned. “Gave up her family? Did they never reconcile?”
Mr. Darcy shook his head. “It could not be done. Her choice was entirely insupportable.”
“But surely, one would not disinherit a daughter simply because she loved an Englishman.”
“It was not just nation but religion that separated them. Our grandmother was Catholic, and our grandfather, of course, was not. She was required to renounce her religion and rear her children as Protestant. In truth, Father said his parents attempted to hide all traces of her former faith once they settled in England.”
“Of course. Her husband would have endured persecution if she did not. How difficult it must have been for her.”
Mr. Darcy walked on a few paces, stared at the floor, and lowered his voice even more. “Few know this, but Grandmother continued to practice her faith in secret.”
“In secret?”
“In public, she attended services with her husband and children at the village church, but whenever possible, she stole away to visit a priest who maintained a small Catholic church just past the edge of the wood. He tended a small flock that clung to the Papist belief. The church remains to this day.”
“And did your grandfather know?”
He nodded and smiled. “My father said his father permitted it because he loved her. He found it hard to deny her anything even though his own family was not at all pleased that my grandfather married beneath him.”
“Beneath him? I thought her family prosperous.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Irish and Catholic? ’Twas unacceptable. Besides, Grandfather married her without her father’s consent. She came to him without a dowry. Yes, I would say he married below his station, but then, he married for love.”
His eyes met mine, and for one unguarded moment, it was as though I caught a glimpse of his soul. Almost immediately, however, he cleared his throat and marched on ahead. “That is sufficient for today. I shall not bore you with more family history. Let us walk on to the opposite wing of the house. I want you to see the ballroom.”
I had to hurry to catch up with his long stride, but not before I turned and looked into the green eyes of Siobhan Darcy once more. I felt a chill run down my spine when I recognized that they were mine.
][
By nightfall, Mr. Darcy had exhibited the entire great house, save the attics. We agreed to postpone those for a day when we had adequate time to devote to our quest. I was pleased to know he had not abandoned his offer to search for knowledge of my birth. I had feared it might have been simply a scheme to entice me to visit Pemberley.
A welcome break in the weather occurred on the morrow, and we enjoyed four glorious days of sunshine. Mr. Darcy took advantage of it to show me the grounds. Even covered in snow, I could see the gardens were outstanding and that I had experienced only the briefest of tours during my visit the previous summer. The stables were filled with thoroughbreds, and he took pride in naming each horse’s forebears—all superior pedigrees, I am certain, had I known anything about breeds. He was surprised when I
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