Undoing

by L. L. Diamond

  “You would have dearly loved what she said after you departed.”

  Elizabeth looked at her sister and shook her head. “Would I?”

  “She said ‘it was shameful that James lost his inheritance to a child who lacked the proper breeding and would suffer for his upbringing.’”

  “Oh, I hope I see that woman when I am next in town.”

  Jane gave her that look—the one that never failed to make Elizabeth feel the size of an ant. “Nicholas said much the same. Do not forget the disappointment she will feel when your mourning is over and certain events come to pass.”

  “Just desserts,” said Elizabeth. “I shall not feel pity for her. Fitzwilliam would never accept such a petty woman as his wife.”

  “No more than Nicholas would. I understand she boasts a fortune of twenty-thousand, yet she is five and twenty and unwed.”

  “Then perhaps she should wed James. He is in desperate need of funds.”

  “Lizzy! Would you truly wish such a fate on any lady?”

  Elizabeth gave a bark of laughter. “On her? I do believe I would.” She walked further out towards a copse of trees. “I am thankful my mourning provides me an excuse not to associate with the likes of those women.”

  “And if they talk when they return to London?”

  “I hope they do.” Elizabeth closed her eyes and lifted her face towards the sky, allowing the breeze to caress her face. “Laura, Lady Vranes, will cut them for me. I am certain Lady Matlock would as well.” After one glance at Jane, she turned and sighed. “She insulted my son, Jane. She may not have said it to my face, but she did say so. I am tired, I am lonely, and I am impatient to be done with this infernal year of mourning. I do not have the tolerance for her balderdash. She had best steer clear of me.”

  “Her brother is certainly amiable,” said Jane who took Elizabeth’s arm.

  “He has no spine. He is, as Shakespeare says, ‘led by the nose as asses are.’”

  Jane giggled and tugged at Elizabeth’s elbow. “Come, join me for tea. You can warm yourself and Alexander by the fire. Mary is here to practise and you know she will wish to hold her nephew.”

  “Is Mama with her?”

  “No, Papa refused her the carriage. Mary walked.”

  Elizabeth smiled and let Jane lead her towards the house. “Mama surely loved that. I can hear her. ‘Walk three miles! You will not be fit to be seen!’”

  “You had best prepare yourself. They come to Netherfield Sunday after church and will stay for dinner.”

  “Nicholas must truly love you.”

  “Lizzy!”

  “Well, he must. When Fitzwilliam endures Mama and still wants to marry me, I shall know he loves me and cannot live without me.”

  “Lizzy,” said Jane in a low tone. “You know Fitzwilliam loves you.”

  One side of Elizabeth’s lips curved. “Yes, but Mama could kill even the stoutest love.”

  “Lizzy!”

  November 23rd 1810

  Netherfield

  Hertfordshire

  Dearest Laura,

  Miss Geddes has just departed, and I must thank you again for sending her to us. The number of sketches she made before even laying a brush to canvas astounds me. She has painted a beautiful portrait of Alexander and me that will hang in Worthstone for generations to come, though I hope you will forgive me for wearing black. It seemed appropriate since anyone who knows Alexander’s age will know I was in mourning at the time. I do not wish people to think I did not give my husband his due.

  Your latest letter made me laugh harder than I have in some time. I must thank you for the days of enjoyment I received from your description of Miss Bingley. I have managed to avoid her since that day, thanks to Alexander and Miss Geddes, but I know I must face her eventually. She is insufferable, though my sister is too good and begs my patience with her. I do not know why since she has also insulted Jane on several occasions. I disagree with your assertion that Miss Bingley plans her barbs. Instead, I believe her insults are the impulse of the moment, yet they are still horrendously rude.

  The months drag by, though I hope the upcoming holiday season will hurry a bit of the time along so I might do more as I please. While I do not mind the solitude from Miss Bingley, I do miss certain diversions—such as visiting art exhibitions with you, dear friend.

  Alexander grows swiftly. He holds himself up when I carry him and he can laugh. I adore every new nuance to his personality, though I mourn the disappearance of his newborn features. While I wish time to hasten for one reason, I cannot bear it passing with such speed that I lose this precious time with him as a babe.

  “Lizzy!”

  Elizabeth groaned and sanded the paper in front of her. “Yes, Mama!”

  Her mother bustled into the doorway and frowned. “There you are. You should be in the drawing room. The Bingleys have called.”

  “Again?” If only they would call on the Lucases or the Gouldings. They seemed to be here incessantly.

  “What does it matter if they have called before? You should greet them.”

  “I have met them, Mama. I have no desire to greet them today.”

  Her mother clucked and crossed her arms over her chest. “Mr. Bingley has five thousand a year! I have great hopes he might take a liking to Mary since your father will not let me introduce him to Kitty. If only Lydia were out! I could have them wed by Easter!”

  Elizabeth closed her eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Mama, Lydia is not yet fifteen. She has no business at an assembly much less courting. None of my sisters will be goaded into marriage as I was. Do you hear me?” She glared in an attempt to calm her mother.

  “As if marriage to the duke harmed you! Look at the property and homes you have! Your son—my grandson is the Duke of Leeds! How well that sounds.” The last was said as though she only just realised that point. “I did you a great favour by pressing you into marrying the duke.”

  Her mother clasped her hands in front of her. “Where is Alexander? You should wake him and bring him down. They should see my grandson—my grandson the duke!” The last words gained in volume and pitch. She knew that tone anywhere. Her mother would push and push until she gained what she desired, to use Alexander to curry those horrid women’s favour.

  “No, Miss Bingley belittled Alexander the last she saw him. He might be a babe, but I do not want her near my son.” Not to mention Alexander, who smiled much more than he cried, still wailed whenever in his grandmother’s presence.

  “Mrs. Bennet.” Mr. Bennet entered without pause and took his wife by the elbow. “Lizzy is in mourning, and it is more than proper for her to avoid company while remaining at Netherfield. Go help Jane entertain her guests and try not to embarrass her.”

  “Embarrass her? I would never!”

  Once he had all but shoved her mother from the room, Mr. Bennet sat in a nearby chair and relaxed. “How are you today, my Lizzy?”

  “I am well enough. I was taking care of my correspondence while the Bingleys were here.”

  He grimaced and sighed. “Why your mother is so desperate to gain the approbation of those ladies is beyond me. They are the most disagreeable sort, and the brother is as beetle-headed as they come. He smiles and is altogether too happy. I doubt he has ever put his foot down with that sister of his.”

  “As you put down your foot with my sisters before the duke insisted.”

  He laughed and straightened some, tugging at the front of his topcoat. “Once I insisted on them not coming out until seventeen and weathered the storm, life returned to normal. I had no need to exert myself any further.”

  Elizabeth set down her pen and crossed her arms over her chest. “If Thomas had not insisted, Kitty would be out and Lydia would be out next year. They have become brash and uncontrolled. You must exert yourself with them now before they expose themselves to censure or some rake ruins them. I would be pleased to send Lydia to school. Perhaps I might find one that will help with her spoilt and wilf
ul disposition.”

  “And your husband’s fortune saves us again,” he said, sarcasm lacing his tone.

  “Do not call him that.” Elizabeth spoke through her teeth.

  “What? Your husband? You were married before God and this family. He could be little else.”

  Elizabeth rose and cleared her throat. “Thomas was a great many things, but he was no husband. Pray excuse me, this conversation has left me desirous of solitude.”

  Her father furrowed his brow but merely watched her while she departed. When the door closed behind her, she sagged against it and dropped her head. She needed to better control her temper.

  Chapter 23

  Fitzwilliam slowed his horse at the first glimpse of Meryton. How many times had Elizabeth described in vivid detail the town as well as Longbourn? He passed several small cottages before he noticed the sign for Mr. Phillips, Elizabeth’s uncle and the local solicitor. She had certainly mentioned him and his wife on numerous occasions.

  The assembly rooms stood on the opposite side of the street. After he passed the inn, the road forked, and he followed the pathway the left, bringing him through a small forest.

  When he emerged from the trees, the road curved again and Netherfield stood proudly in the distance, its sand-coloured limestone gleaming in the afternoon sun. He pressed his horse forward into a gallop. Blood rushed through his veins, roaring in his ears, and his heart threatened to burst from his chest. He would see Elizabeth! After nearly four months, he would finally lay eyes on her and their son.

  A groom hastened forward as Fitzwilliam approached the house, taking the horse so he could climb the front steps. The door opened and Carlisle emerged with a huge grin. “You finally gave in.”

  “I must return to fetch Georgiana from school in a week. I plan to bring her here if you do not object.”

  “You and Georgiana are always welcome to visit. I have told you for weeks to come. Did you think I would change my mind once you journeyed as you have? That would be uncharitable.”

  Fitzwilliam laughed and clenched his hands. Everything in him wanted to shove his cousin out of his way and burst inside yelling Elizabeth’s name. “You could.”

  Carlisle grabbed him by the shoulder and tugged him through the entrance. “Miss Bennet comes often to play the pianoforte. I am certain she and Georgiana will do well in each other’s company; however, I must warn you that the Bingleys call frequently, particularly Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst.”

  A wince came without thought to Fitzwilliam. “Perhaps we can keep my presence a well-guarded secret.”

  “Hah! Good luck! Once you have met Mrs. Bennet, she will have your name and income thrown around three counties before she considers her task complete.” Carlisle did not stop but let the butler close the door behind him upon their entrance to the hall. The house was not as grand as Pemberley or Matlock, but it was in good repair and well-furnished. “Lizzy is walking with Alexander. She has taken to waking early and strolling the gardens after she feeds him, but she enjoys taking him out every afternoon if the weather permits.”

  “She is guarded?”

  “A footman follows regardless of whether Alexander accompanies her. When she brings Alexander, she rarely strays past the gardens. He truly seems to enjoy the fresh air.”

  “Did you tell her I am coming?” A part of him hoped they had not. He wanted to see the expression on her face.

  “No, Jane thought you would prefer to surprise her.” Carlisle wore a grin while he led Fitzwilliam through to a comfortable drawing room.

  Jane stood and hurried forward to hug him. “Lizzy is in the rose garden. At least she set out in that direction when I left her not five minutes ago. You should find her for me and convince her to return for tea.” Her head tilted to the side a hair, one side of her lips curving a bit more than the other. Elizabeth always said her mother was the worst at matchmaking before Thomas proposed. Jane also seemed to enjoy the practice.

  With a slap on the back, Carlisle pressed him towards a door that led to the back gardens. “Follow the centre path out until it splits and go right. You will find her.”

  Fitzwilliam shook his cousin’s hand. “Thank you.”

  He strode along the path and turned where Carlisle had indicated, taking him between two tall hedgerows. When he reached the end, a round garden of roses lay mostly dormant for the winter. Elizabeth stood in the centre walkway, staring at something in the distance.

  She pointed and spoke in soft tones, holding Alexander securely to her side. She wrapped her free hand around their son’s back while she continued to talk. After bestowing a kiss to the babe’s temple, she cuddled him a little closer.

  Fitzwilliam cleared his throat. “Lizzy,” he said gently. He wanted to surprise her, not scare her out of her wits.

  She gasped and turned abruptly. “Fitzwilliam!” As fast as she could move without jostling Alexander, she hastened around the roses while he strode to meet her. When she finally stood directly in front of him, she lurched forward but drew herself back before she stepped into his arms.

  He glanced over her shoulder to where a footman stood at the edge of the garden.

  She shook her head with shiny eyes. “I cannot believe you are here.”

  He lifted a shoulder. His hand reached only slightly before falling back to his side. The urge to touch her was overwhelming. “I could not stay away another day. I shall need to return to London to fetch Georgiana for the holidays, but I plan on bringing her here.”

  Again, he reached out his hand. Once she placed her small gloved one in his palm, he bowed properly over it, kissing her knuckles longer than he truly should have. “Your Grace,” he said. “’Tis wonderful to be in your company again.”

  “Are we to be so proper?” Her eyes rolled slightly while she smiled. “I love that you want to do this, but pray, let us start as we were before, friends. I call you Fitzwilliam, you call me Lizzy, and we converse in the same manner we always have.”

  He laughed and took a deep breath to shove down that part of him that wanted to kiss her and pull her closer. That battle would wage until he made her his, and he had best control this yearning for as long as possible. “Of course.” He let Alexander’s fingers wrap around one of his larger ones as he had when the babe was first born. “He certainly has grown.” Alexander was no longer a tiny baby but had grown somewhat taller. His hair still had the one curl that coiled upon the top of his head.

  “Indeed, he has. He can support his own head and even roll from his stomach to his back. He adores smiling—particularly right after he wakes. Do you not, Alexander?” Their son gave a large toothless grin while he attempted to yank Fitzwilliam’s finger into his mouth. “He also enjoys sucking on his hands or the fingers of anyone holding him.”

  She drew the boy from the shawl she had tied around her waist. “I am certain you wish to hold him.”

  Fitzwilliam nearly trembled out of his boots when he took his son. He had not held him in months and never outside like this. What if he dropped him?

  Even after he had him in his arms, she kept a hand to the baby’s back. “Bring him to your shoulder. He enjoys looking around.”

  Alexander’s wide blue eyes examined him before he smiled again and rubbed his face against Fitzwilliam’s shoulder. When Alexander straightened, his tiny hand found Fitzwilliam’s cheek. Fitzwilliam covered his son’s hand and turned his head to kiss the palm as he would Elizabeth. “I have missed you, my little man.” How full his heart was at that moment! All he had longed for was so physically close. If only he could embrace Elizabeth as well.

  “I have missed you too,” he said, catching Elizabeth’s gaze. “You do not know how many times I almost ordered my horse saddled so I might ride here to spend an evening. The problem lay in leaving. If I came, I could not walk away so soon. I know I shall find it nearly impossible to depart after Christmas.”

  She shook her head and pressed her palm to her stomach. “I would prefer not to speak of it now. Tha
t day will come soon enough. I would prefer to live in the present.”

  “Do you ever think of the past?” He clenched his teeth and attempted to steel himself. As much as she had affirmed he still held her affection, he did not want her to regret how they had begun.

  “I prefer to remember the past as it gives me pleasure. Only a very small portion of our acquaintance is not remembered with fond memories.”

  Alexander had relaxed against him, filling his chest with hope that they could eventually be father and son. Though rearing one’s own child was not exactly a popular occupation among the ton, Fitzwilliam had always spent a prodigious amount of time with his parents. They had not conformed to the usual practices, and he would never understand how most neglected their own flesh and blood. He wanted to witness as much of Alexander’s youth as possible. He would miss so much in this year apart.

  “I hope you will forgive me,” said Elizabeth, her eyes suddenly twinkling.

  His eyebrows drew down with his frown. “I see nothing for which you should be forgiven.”

  Her happy laugh mingled with the breeze, rustling the fallen leaves the gardeners had thus far not cleaned. “You will when my family comes for dinner this evening. My mother has been pushing Mary towards Mr. Bingley. When she learns you are more than twice Mr. Bingley’s worth, she will forget Mr. Bingley exists in a trice.”

  “Poor Bingley,” he laughed.

  She held out her arm along the path, and they began to walk. “Mary has improved in many ways. She is no longer so pious. My father insisted on introducing her to literature beyond Fordyce, and with the aid of the master who comes twice a month, her playing has become more than tolerable.”

  “What of her singing?”

  “Alas, I am unsure if much can help her voice. Jane and I have delicately suggested she not sing when performing.”

  He smiled and kissed his son’s temple. “And has she heeded your advice?”

  “Surprisingly, yes, she has. She has even taken to playing some lighter melodies and not the ponderous pieces she once favoured.”

  “Progress, indeed,” he said. “How is your mother with Alexander?”