by Wells, Linda
“That is why you went to London, Robert? To escape us?” Lady Lucas asked and saw his head nod. “Are we so horrible?”
“Do not put words in my mouth, Mother.” He turned. “See, you are doing it again, it is the same thing that you do with Mrs. Bennet. You egg me on to say something so that you can react defensively. I have had enough. Jane is speaking with her mother right now. We are serious, stop the sniping, stop the war over which parent we love more, stop making us feel guilty for wanting time to ourselves, just stop. And when our baby arrives, I will not see you two fighting over him. That is if you want to see him at all.” He went to the door and opened it, and walked outside to take a deep breath of air. “I wonder if that worked.” Lucas walked out to the stable and saddled his horse before the groom had a chance to help. Climbing on, he started riding off the frustration that both sets of parents inevitably brought him, and finally slowing, he came to the crest of a small rise, where he had an excellent view of Longbourn’s fields. “If only estates could go to the eldest child, not the eldest son.”
“Well that would have solved all of my problems.”
Lucas turned to see Mr. Bennet ambling up on his old mare. “Sir.”
“If only that fool Collins would die.” He chuckled when Lucas’s eyes widened. “No, I am not planning a murder, but he is the only male heir that exists, there is no other that we can identify. Now that his father has passed, he is the heir.”
“Toad.”
“Indeed.” Mr. Bennet gave him a sidelong glance. “So did your parents receive the same dressing down that my wife did today?”
“She did it?” Lucas smiled. “She was hesitant to go forth.”
“Jane is a peacemaker, but this was too important. I am glad that she spoke, and I am sorry that it continues to be necessary, I have stopped it when I am present. Have you headaches like your brother?”
“Darcy truly suffers with pain, mine is more along the lines of frustration.”
“Hmm, well, come with me.” Mr. Bennet nudged his horse and they set off along the edge of the property. “As you know, when I die, Mrs. Bennet is homeless.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That was not always the case for the mistress of the estate.” He led them along, down a lane and up an old, overgrown drive. They came up to a cottage, a shell of a cottage, covered in vines, with long grass growing right up to the door. “This was the dower house.”
“Was is the word, what happened?”
“A fire, some, oh, twenty-five years ago?” Mr. Bennet hopped down from his horse and Lucas joined him. “My mother died here from the smoke.” He looked around and sighed. “Well, it was a ruin, and there being no old mistress anymore, there was no reason to repair it.” They stepped forward and pushing open the creaking door, they walked into the modest house. “Truly a mess.” He looked around. “But the walls and stairs are sound. It needs a roof, and floors, fix up the kitchen and of course furniture, but …” He turned to Lucas and smiled. “If you have the energy to repair it, you are welcome to live here.”
“Here?” Lucas stared around at the walls, still blackened with soot from the fire.
“I received a letter today from Lizzy, telling me of Mr. Darcy’s cousin accepting the family’s offer to take the dower house at Matlock until he had enough accumulated to purchase a small estate of his own, and that is when I remembered this place. It would not be forever, sooner or later you will have Lucas Lodge. You do not need land to provide an income; you just need a place to hang your hat in peace.” He looked around and pulled up a small tree that was sprouting in the sitting room. “Well, this is the best I can do for you, but I can provide some funds for the repairs, perhaps some of the tenants can lend a hand when the harvest is in.”
Lucas walked around, going through all the rooms, wandering upstairs, then back down. There was so much work to be done, but it could be managed with time and effort. “What of the entail? Could Collins remove us?”
“Then you could return to Lucas Lodge and be no worse off than you are now, perhaps even more appreciated for your absence. One day you know that will be your home.” Mr. Bennet smiled and gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Why not go and find Jane, and see what she thinks?”
Lucas took another long look around, this time with eyes filled with optimism instead of doubt. It was small, but there was room for them, a baby or two; perhaps two servants … “Thank you, Mr. Bennet. I think that I will do just that.”
Chapter 18
“Sorry, sir.” Sanders untied the cravat once again.
“It is fine, Corporal … Sanders. Take your time.” Richard closed his eyes as he worked. “I thank you for remaining with me.”
“I could not consider serving another, sir.” Maintaining his emotionless expression, he slowly went through the steps of tying a civilian’s neck cloth, and at last formed the perfect knot. “There she goes.” He said under his breath. Nodding, he stepped back. “Your coat, sir.”
“Yes.” Richard reopened his eyes and held out his arms, allowing the new blue coat to be slipped on and adjusted. He stood before the mirror and watched as his batman, now valet, fussed over him. “That is fine, Cor … Sanders.”
“Yes, Colonel.” The two men’s eyes met. “You will always be Colonel Fitzwilliam, sir.”
“Well … If the master of Rosings can remain a navy captain, then,” he straightened, “I suppose that I can remain a colonel. And better yet,” a little of his old swagger returned, “I believe that I might outrank him.”
“That’s the spirit, sir.” Sanders nodded approvingly, and disappeared through the servant’s door.
Richard stared in the mirror, and found himself reaching to adjust the sword that was no longer there. “Sir?” He looked up to see a footman at the door. “This express just came for you.”
“Thank you.” Creasing his brow, he examined the letter, and recognized the precise handwriting instantly. He quickly broke the seal and read. A slow smile lifted his lips.
13 August 1811
Pemberley
Derbyshire
Dear Richard,
I felt that I should finally express how proud I am of you. I have admired you since we were boys when I perpetually endeavoured to catch you, and wished to best you, which I eventually managed to do once or twice. I look at you as my elder brother, and I know that although you are only eighteen months my senior, you have served as my teacher and my companion, and remain my greatest friend, only surpassed by my dear wife.
I worried along with the rest of the family when you entered the army. I paced the floors and knelt in prayer when you were deployed. I cursed and begged and waited impatiently for news when you were injured, and hoped desperately that you would recover to once again be my most exceptional tormentor. It was your encouragement that helped me through Father’s decline; it was your tales that buoyed my spirits as I struggled to adjust to my new position. It was your return and humour that helped me when I felt so lost; and it was your boot that kicked me out the door and into Elizabeth’s arms. I am forever grateful.
All of those things you accomplished as a man, not a soldier. It was not your uniform that made you an exceptional person. Without doubt it gave your miserable countenance a presence, a measure of confidence, and you proved over and over that you are worthy of your rank unlike so many who simply bought the job and brought no intelligence to it. But that is not my point. You, Richard Fitzwilliam, accomplished those great feats on the battlefield, in the training grounds, and most importantly to me, as my cousin, my brother, and my friend. No uniform was necessary for that; you would have been the man you are, regardless.
I know that your pride is hurting. You are accepting help, real help, for the first time in your life. It grates on you, it makes you feel weak, it hurts to have to go back to the family home and seemingly have no purpose, but that is where you are wrong. You have great purpose as husband and father, and your family wants more than anything to see you succeed, and bett
er yet, see you out of the dower’s house and master of your own estate as soon as possible. After all, do you truly believe that Stephen wants your mother living in Matlock when he is Earl?
Put your misgivings, disappointment, and feelings of failure aside. Take this move as a respite, not a sign of weakness. If you cannot bear to be at Matlock, come to Pemberley, we will be very glad to have you and your family.
Your brother,
Darcy
“Good Lord, man, you will make me weep.” Richard blinked his brightened eyes and taking the letter, carefully folded the sheets and walked to the travelling desk to place it with his most important papers. He took out his handkerchief and blew his nose. “Very well, Darcy. Buck me up. But it is so hard.”
“Richard?” Evangeline came into the dressing room and put her hand on his back. “It is nearly time to go.”
“I know.” He turned to her and she slipped her arms around his waist. They stood tightly embraced. “I am so sorry, my dear Eva. I am so sorry.”
“You make this sound like we are going to debtor’s prison!” She whispered and he laughed softly. “We are going on an unusually extended visit to a beautiful estate, and will live in a very lovely house.” Drawing back, she caressed his face. “Put your pride aside.”
“I have. I am wearing this damn coat, am I not?”
“That coat makes your blue eyes even bluer.” Evangeline smiled and he could not help but smile back. “I rather like this new look.”
“Do you?” He glanced down. “It feels so odd.”
“You do not smell like a horse.”
“Well there is a bonus.” Fitzwilliam laughed.
“For me it is.” She laughed and rested her head on his chest. “I received an express from Elizabeth.”
“Ah, the Darcys strike again.” He kissed her forehead. “And what did she have to say?”
“Oh, news of Rosa’s latest, a permanent invitation to Pemberley, tales of Fitzwilliam scouring the country for an estate …” She peeked up at him and was relieved to see his fond smile.
“He is unstoppable.” He chuckled.
“Jeffrey has invited us to stay if we grow tired of Matlock. And he is making inquiries of the neighbourhood for possibilities.” She looked up to see that his smile remained. “It will be fine.”
“Because you are with me. If we had not married, I would have taken the position at Sandhurst and soldiered on as long as I could.” He rested his cheek on her hair and their embrace grew tighter. “Well, I suppose that we are merely delaying the inevitable. We should go.” Lifting his head he looked down into her warm eyes. “I love you, Evangeline Fitzwilliam. I will make you proud of me one day.”
“You silly fool, I already am.” She let go and took his enormous rough hand in hers, and looked over the calluses and scars that covered it. “I would never have loved a plain old gentleman.”
“No?” He kissed her hand and entwined their fingers. “Why not?
“Oh, they are deadly dull.” She sniffed and led him from the dressing room. “If a man is going to tell a story countless times for all of eternity, at least let it be of a more fascinating subject than shooting, and preferably rooted in fact.”
“Do you imply that my stories are embellished?”
“No, I do not imply it at all.” They stopped just before the door that led out of their bedchamber and looked back at it for the last time. “So many wonderful memories were formed in this room.”
“And they replaced so many terrible ones, for both of us.” Fitzwilliam caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers. “Do you remember your struggle to accept me, to accept change and to take a chance on the unknown?”
“I do. It was such a difficult time, even though I wanted more than anything to just give in and say yes to you. I had to work through all of my doubts.”
“Well, that is what I am doing now, struggling, even though my gut tells me that this is the right thing to do, my self-respect fights me.”
“Then who better than I to help you through it?” Evangeline kissed him, and when she started to draw away, he pulled her in for a longer, deeper kiss. They finally separated and rested their foreheads together. Hugging him, she whispered, “Annabel is waiting.”
Fitzwilliam opened his eyes and kissed the tear rolling down her cheek before drawing away with a smile. “Well then, who are we to delay her?”
“CAREFUL!” Georgiana cried. “Ohhhh, what are we going to do?”
“We need a board or something, something stiff to keep it from rolling up. Maybe … maybe Matthews would have an idea.” Kitty sighed as she looked down at the table. “Think!”
Bingley poked his head in the library door. “Ladies.” They jumped and spun, hiding their work behind their skirts. He tilted his head and smiled. “What are you two doing? Guiltily, might I add?”
“Are you alone?” Kitty whispered anxiously.
He looked over his shoulder and down the hall and whispered. “Yes. Why?”
“Well, come in.” Georgiana flew past him and partially closed the door.
“I am all curiosity now!” Bingley laughed and approaching the table, stopped. “Oh my goodness.”
“Do you like them?” Georgiana asked eagerly.
“I drew them and Georgiana highlighted them with watercolours.” Kitty explained. “I am not that good, but I think that they kind of resemble …”
“Miss Catherine, do not discount your talent, I can see their faces perfectly.” Bingley bent down and looked closely. “I can hear the music as I view this.” He smiled as he examined the delicate image of four men dancing with their infant daughters clasped in their arms; the nearest face was that of Darcy, smiling lovingly into his Rosalie’s eyes. “It is absolutely beautiful.” Moving on to another drawing, he smiled. “Where was this?”
“Oh, that was Lizzy at Rosings.” Kitty stood next to him and looked at it critically. “I do not have her nose quite right, but Georgiana’s colours make her glow. She was so different there, don’t you think Georgiana?”
“Definitely, I remember her being particularly fragile, I am not sure why, but she is glowing like that again now. It must be because she is so happy to be home.” She stepped over and pointed at the tinges of pink that she used. “She exudes happiness, have you noticed? Well, when she is not sleeping.”
“Which is what she is doing there.” Bingley smiled at the image of mother and daughter resting on a bench in the gardens. “And this last, I think that I witnessed this scene.”
Georgiana giggled. “I am so glad that you drew this, it is proof that Fitzwilliam is silly.”
“It is really hard to draw rain and water. I think I will have to try this one again sometime.” Kitty shrugged. “But I think it will make them smile and help them to remember their walk.”
“All of these are wonderful. They are so much nicer than formal portraits.” He gestured to some oil paintings of ancient Darcys looking down at them. “These are illustrations of their life, and I know that they will be treasured. What inspired such work?”
“It is Elizabeth’s birthday.” Bingley closed his eyes and inwardly groaned. “Fitzwilliam has taken her somewhere on the estate for the day and well, we cannot really give her anything much, but we have been working on these in secret for weeks.” Georgiana studied him and laughed. “You did not remember, did you?”
“No.” He sighed. “And this explains where they are this morning.” Creasing his brow, he looked over the pictures. “When I came in you were discussing ways to mount these?”
“Yes, you see, they just roll up, and since we are working on our own, we could not ask for help.”
“I noticed a cabinet maker in Lambton.”
“Yes, he is not far from the pastry shop.” Georgiana looked at him curiously. “What do you have in mind?”
Bingley walked to the library door and opened it, and spotting a footman gave an order and returned. “Roll up your masterpieces, ladies, and fetch your bonnets. We are t
o Lambton. My contribution will be the framing.”
“OH!” Kitty and Georgiana cried. “Thank you!” Both girls ran to give him a hug before dashing from the room.
Laughing, he watched them disappear, and walked back to the table where he looked back down at the scenes of the Darcy family. “This is what I want someday.” He glanced at the black armband and sighed. “Two more months.”
JANE WIPED THE DIRT from her hands and stood, straightening her back. “I think that we have made some progress.”
“Well.” Lydia happily took the opportunity to stop working. “At least we have pulled the weeds out of your sitting room.”
“Such devastation.” Jane sighed and looking around, she found a rock to sit upon and stared up at the little cottage. The vines were gone, the grass cut back, and a brand new thatched roof stood in stark contrast to the ruined building below. “I wish that I could do more, but I do not think that this baby will let me.”
“If Robert catches you lifting something again, he will strangle you.”
“He was angry enough to see me on a ladder cleaning out the bird’s nests from the kitchen.” She smiled. “I wonder if Lizzy realized what a shambles this place was when she suggested it to Papa.”
“She has not seen it for years. Why did you say yes if you thought it was so bad?” Lydia flopped down next to her and looked up. “Maybe you would be better off with a new cottage.”
“No, this is no mansion, but it is actually fairly roomy. For what it will cost to refurbish, I think that we could build something new that was only half the size. We might as well remain in Lucas Lodge then.” She closed her eyes tiredly. “It will be worth it in the end, whenever that is.”
“Do you regret Mr. Bingley or Mr. Harwick?”
Jane opened her eyes to see her sister. “No, not at all. Why do you ask?”
She shrugged. “Well, if you had married either of them, you would be living somewhere grand. But here you are trying to refurbish this little house, and when it is all finished and furnished, you will not be able to just move in and relax. You will have to work to live here.”