“I understand,” he said, quickly before she could continue. “I behaved abominably yesterday. I love you too, but I cannot bear us being apart. I had not considered Georgiana’s schooling or that you would desire to return to your home. You have begged me to think of you as a rational woman, and I did naught to please a woman worthy of being pleased. You had every right to be angry with me.”
She sniffed as a tear splashed upon her cheek. “I know you do not intend us harm. I should not have become so intemperate.”
He stood and rounded the desk to take her in his arms. “I deserved your ire.”
“You are not usually so impulsive.”
“No,” he said softly. “You bring that fault out in me. I have said before that you are my undoing.” He brushed his lips against hers, and her body truly relaxed for the first time since their disagreement the day before.
“Do not blame me for your failings.” She lifted her one eyebrow while lifting only one side of her lips. Thankfully, he laughed in response.
“I understand Mrs. Hamilton’s replacement is doing very well.”
“She is excellent. I could not be more pleased.”
“I must confess to being relieved when Mrs. Hamilton departed the inn without incident. A small part of me worried she would return to commit some mischief. Under the new management, however, the house will be in capable hands.” He stepped back and lifted the ledger he had been studying. “The books are in order. I have spoken to the steward who will message both of us should he have an issue. All that remains is for you to decide when you will depart.”
“The Vicar at Worthstone comes tomorrow to christen Alexander and will perform the churching ceremony here in the chapel. I would prefer to depart on Monday. I can have myself and Alexander packed and ready. We shall have a week to travel should we need to take extra days for Alexander.”
“Then I shall plan to depart Monday as well. Georgiana and I shall journey to Pemberley so Georgiana can pack for school.”
Elizabeth touched the precise folds of his cravat, swallowing the lump in her throat. That lump had to be the size of one of those rocks on the peaks. “You will come to Hertfordshire, will you not?”
“I will. You know I will. You could not keep me away.”
She blinked back the sting from tears. “I should go. I need to return to Alexander.”
“May I come to you tonight? I only want to hold you. I confess to sleeping dreadfully without you.”
“Yes, Alexander will be pleased to see his papa.”
He drew her back into his arms and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I promise I shall make you happy.”
“I have no doubt of it.”
After one last chaste kiss, she departed and returned to her rooms and their son. She did not anticipate the coming months—the time they would need to spend apart as well as his meeting her mother. Regardless of his love for her, Mrs. Francine Bennet was a trial to anyone. How would she bear it if her mother’s uncouth behaviour altered his feelings for her? Yes, she was being nonsensical, but that worry would be ever-present until he met Francine Bennet and still proposed marriage.
As planned, two carriages rolled away from Worthstone on an intemperate Monday in August. When they reached the main road, the carriage with the Darcy crest headed north-east towards Pemberley while the other headed southeast in the direction of Hertfordshire, leaving Worthstone, with its perfectly manicured gardens and polished grandeur, behind them for home—at least the homes Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth had always known.
Chapter 21
September 11th 1810
Netherfield
Hertfordshire
My dearest Fitzwilliam,
I have thanked Nicholas more times than I can count for enclosing these letters in his own, allowing us to communicate. I confess I still find addressing him as Nicholas strange, but I suppose if I had a brother born a Bennet, I would not address him as Bennet, but by his given name. I may still stumble over the familiarity, but I am becoming accustomed to it.
I have also enclosed a letter of business, but news of myself and Alexander seemed odd to mix with information of homes, leases, and tenants.
I am certain first and foremost you wish to know of Alexander. I cannot wait for you to see him! How he has grown in the past month! He is more aware of me, as well as who holds him. He smiles and coos—particularly after he first wakes in the morning. He has charmed the entire staff at Netherfield, though for some reason, he does not like Mama (I confess I cannot entirely blame him). She has insisted on holding him on several occasions, and he has screamed unlike anything I have ever heard. If I had not known better, I would have thought my mother pinched him. Since he is her only grandson—and of course a boy—she insists during every visit that he has never cried while she has held him, yet every time, he wails in her arms. She then insists he will become accustomed to her. Jane and I do not hold the same optimism.
The families of the neighbourhood have called to welcome me back to Meryton, and I have taken great pleasure in learning the news of each and every person. My dear friend Charlotte calls regularly, and I have enjoyed her society greatly.
I have also hired a nursemaid for Alexander. Millie is the niece of Mrs. Nichols, the Netherfield housekeeper, and has been known to me most of my life. She is five and thirty and worked for a family in Watford before her return a month ago. The children she cared for are now grown and the family no longer in need of her services. She had been with that family for twelve years. They were sorry to see her depart.
Millie sits with him while he naps during the day and cares for him if I am busy helping Jane or receiving callers. She also sees to him when he wakes during the night and notifies me if he needs to eat. He still wakes twice, which is a vast improvement over the three to four after he was born. I know I do not gain much sleep, but I do feel significantly more rested.
I am eager to hear more recent news of you. How does Georgiana fare? I envy her the ability to attend school. I hope you are concluding your business in London swiftly. Summer is never nice in town and disease is always a problem. I find myself eager to hear the wheels of your carriage approach. I long to hear your voice and let it soothe the ache of your absence.
Do not keep me waiting, my love.
Lizzy
September 17th 1810
Darcy House
London
Dear Lizzy,
In response to your letter of business, I have found a tenant for the great house at Stoke. Since you presently live at Netherfield, I agree leasing it for a year is a good plan to raise funds towards a piano master for Miss Bennet. I am sorry to hear the master Mr. Bennet employed was so unreliable. From your descriptions of your sister, I am certain she will learn a great deal and also appreciate the experience. The benefit to your own ears will no doubt be considerable as well.
I have met with your solicitors and all appears to be in order. Thomas did well to save a substantial fortune, so do remember you need not raise money to gift your sister with a piano master, though I do understand your hesitancy to take funds without replacing them. Until Alexander’s majority, the estate is yours as well as Alexander’s and is meant to support you both. Pray remember you are entitled to spend as you please. I have seen your books from Worthstone and from Worth House as well as the bills for your past purchases. You are not a spendthrift. You will not harm Alexander’s future. I assure you.
As to your invitation to Netherfield, I appreciate the sentiment, but unfortunately, business and Lady Matlock keep me in London. My aunt wished to return for the little Season and has insisted I attend a small ball as well as a dinner she is holding. You know my sentiments on such diversions, but my aunt has refused to accept my decline of her summons. I fear I am forced to remain in London at present.
I am expected to meet Mr. Bingley shortly at White’s, so I must close. Forgive me the brevity of this missive.
God Bless You,
Fitzwilliam Darcy
Elizabeth let her hand holding the letter drop to her lap. What was this? She had penned him a billet-doux and a letter of business. Was he not capable of doing the same?
She stared at the correspondence with a frown. The tone was so formal and stiff. Not at all the Fitzwilliam she loved.
“Lizzy, is anything amiss?”
With a quick jerk of her head, she looked at Jane. Mary, who often came to Netherfield to escape their mother, sat beside her, holding a sleeping Alexander. “I am not sure. I believe I require some time alone.” She stood and paused in front of Mary. “When you tire of holding him, call for Millie. She can bring him to my rooms.”
Mary rose and bent toward Elizabeth to hand over the child. “I hope you do not mind, but I want to practise the pianoforte before I return to Longbourn. The Broadwood here is so much nicer than ours, and I want to work on what the master taught me a few days ago.”
“I do not mind,” said Elizabeth. As soon as Alexander was in her arms, she itched to bury her nose in his downy hair and kiss his tiny nose. Holding him close proved to be of great comfort while Fitzwilliam was away.
Once Mary bustled from the room, Jane stood and stepped close. “What is it? You restrained it well, but I could see your excitement when Nicholas handed you that letter. Now you appear nearly in tears. What did it contain?”
“Oh, Jane!”
Her sister moved to the door and closed it before returning. “Was it from Fitzwilliam?” He had invited Jane to call him thus before they departed Worthstone, and though she was as uneasy calling him Fitzwilliam as Elizabeth was with Nicholas, they had both given in to using their given names.
“Yes, but ’tis not what I expected. He writes so formally I do not know what to think. What if his feelings have changed?” She held out the horrid note. “You read it.”
Jane unfolded the paper and read over Fitzwilliam’s words while she bit her thumbnail. “You penned him two notes, did you not?” She flipped the paper over to determine if it might have more on the reverse.
“Yes, I did have a letter containing my thought of leasing Stoke, but I also included one where I told him how much I missed him and longed to see him. How I wanted him to come. He has only responded to the business correspondence.”
“Perhaps he did not have time, and the second letter follows?”
Elizabeth huffed and touched her forehead to Alexander’s. “That would not be like him. He can be rather fastidious about this sort of thing.” How many times had she watched him pen notes and work on estate business while he was at Worthstone? Instead of using the master’s study, he used the sitting room while the household thought he consulted with Thomas. Thomas was too ill to truly be of help.
“Come,” said Jane, waving Elizabeth to follow.
“Where are we going?”
“I believe the best person to ask why Fitzwilliam is behaving in such a way is Nicholas.”
Elizabeth halted in mid-step and backed away. Nicholas? Why did all of her personal business need to be discussed between both Jane and her husband? “No, I am humiliated enough that both of you know the entirety of our relationship. I cannot ask my brother for romantic advice.” She all but hissed the last. “Would you wish to ask Fitzwilliam?”
Jane shrugged though her face pinked. “Why not? Besides you and Georgiana, Nicholas knows Fitzwilliam best. They are like brothers. I am certain if I had a problem with Nicholas, Fitzwilliam would have the answer.”
She shook her head and gave a laugh deeply rooted in how tense she was. “Nicholas does not need to know my intimate problems, just like if they existed, I would not need to know his.”
Jane made a noise similar to a growl and propped her hands on her hips. “What if I required advice on marital relations or dealing with a husband’s mood? Would you not help me?”
“Yes, of course I would, but that is different.”
“Not if I need advice on marital relations.” Jane nearly sing-songed the phrase.
“To be honest, I would answer, yet I hope you speak openly enough with Nicholas that he might put you at ease and my advice would not be required.” The conversation would be awkward, but not nearly as horrible as Mama’s talk the night before Elizabeth married.
Jane crossed her arms over her chest. “After Mama’s speech about my wedding night, I am afraid we had to speak of it. I was too terrified otherwise. That night was mortifying, but our marriage is stronger for it.”
“Thank goodness,” said Elizabeth. “I do understand. I trembled while I waited for Thomas, then he hugged me and departed, and I did not know what to do.”
“You were not scared with Fitzwilliam?”
She looked down at the carpet while she thought back. “No, I was not. Perhaps it was the brandy and wine, but we simply acted. The next morning, I understood how much Mama had exaggerated.”
“But she and Papa have a different sort of marriage. Perhaps her wedding night was like that for her?”
Elizabeth shuddered and crinkled her nose. “I have no desire to give much thought to Mama and Papa’s marriage bed.”
Jane laughed and wrapped her arm around Elizabeth’s shoulders. “I confess I also do not wish to think about it.” She used her arm to press Elizabeth forward. “Now if you do not come with me, I shall bring Nicholas to you.”
Elizabeth groaned and hung her head. “You will not disregard my ridiculous fretting, will you?”
“No, I shall not.”
After a knock on Nicholas’s study door, they entered, and Elizabeth sat directly in one of the chairs while Jane walked around his desk and proffered the correspondence from Fitzwilliam. “Do you know of any reason why your cousin would respond to Elizabeth with only a letter of business?”
He read over the paper and looked up with his eyebrows drawn towards the middle. “You sent him one of business and the other was more, was it not?” He waved his hand around to keep from explaining.
“Exactly,” said Elizabeth. “But he only responded with the one.”
Nicholas stared at the letter for a moment before he leaned his head back on the chair and laughed. “Darcy, you dullard.”
“What is it?” asked Jane who leaned upon his desk.
“Correct me if I speak too freely, or if I am mistaken.” He levelled Elizabeth with a steady gaze. “Was he more circumspect that last night at Worthstone? In front of only us, he held your hand but he sat slightly apart from you—further than I would sit from Jane.”
“Yes, but we had argued the day before.”
“Has he reacted similarly when you have argued in the past?”
“Uh, no.” Her cheeks pinked. “I suppose he did not behave as . . . as he had in the past.” Jane giggled and Elizabeth glared at her. “I would thank you not to find humour at my expense, my dear.” Alexander squirmed and she rocked him back and forth. “I do not understand.”
“The morning we departed Worthstone,” said Nicholas, “he made a comment. I thought naught of it at the time, but I believe that with this letter, he is attempting to prove a point.”
A point? Why would he choose to do this when they were apart? “And what point would that be?” she asked.
He folded the letter and began tapping it on the desk. “That he respects you and your intelligence.”
Jane rolled her eyes. “He could do that and still write her a billet-doux.”
“He could, but during their disagreement, Elizabeth commented that she was, for all intents and purposes, his mistress. I can guarantee my fastidious cousin was horrified by the notion of her referring to herself thus. His father would not have approved as you well know.” He regarded Elizabeth with steady eyes. “I would wager Fitzwilliam, despite his love for you, hold
s a certain amount of guilt. You have almost ten months until he can court you. In the meantime, do not be surprised if he is more proper than he has ever been in your presence—at least since you began your relationship.”
Jane took the letter and turned it over in her fingers. “How sweet.”
This time, Elizabeth rolled her eyes and scoffed. “I do not want to pretend the past year did not happen.” Lord, this—Fitzwilliam—exhausted her. “I simply want to move forward.”
“Since your relationship must . . .” Nicholas waved his hand again. “. . . not pass certain boundaries until your wedding is near, his scheme is not a bad idea. Allow him to court you as if the two of you just met, without the intimacy and stress of your past getting in the way. You complained of his assuming you would marry. He will not do so again. If he knows how to court, he will behave in that fashion as much as possible. I do not know if that makes sense.”
“I suppose it does,” she said softly. “We once again become friends rather than lovers until we can become lovers again.” She sighed and traced her finger down Alexander’s nose. “That does not mean he cannot send me a letter better than that one.”
Nicholas laughed and took the missive from Jane to hand back to Elizabeth. “If my mother is haranguing him into dinner parties and balls, she is attempting to matchmake. She will not let him depart London easily.”
A lump rose in Elizabeth’s throat, making her swallow hard. “Your mother is parading ladies in front of him for however long he remains in London?”
“He loves you, Lizzy.” When she looked up, Nicholas levelled a steady gaze. “I have never seen him behave as he does when he is with you. He is more open and free. In his heart, you are his wife. He has said as much to me. You have naught to fear. Have faith in him. Those women failed to turn his eye before he knew you. They will not gain his attention now. The moment you are free from mourning, he will propose. You can rely on him.”
Undoing Page 29