Elizabeth and Jane assisted Charlotte as villagers came and went during the hour when services would have been observed. Sorting the de Bourgh jewels was a brief topic, and again the task was put off for another day.
Meanwhile, at Rosings
Lady Catherine de Bourgh was laid out as her daughter had been in the grandest receiving room, but no one was inclined to venture forth, and Albertine was made to sit with the body.
The family, small though it was, even including Bingley, kept to Anne de Bourgh’s sitting room, the most cheerful setting in the manor. They were quietly relieved when an invitation came from the ladies at Hunsford for an early dinner. It appeared there was an abundance of food, more than four ladies could possibly consume unaided.
It was not thought that a letter would arrive from the Archbishop of Canterbury until Monday morning, and only then if by a church messenger, so the party at Rosings knew they must wait to arrange the funeral. At noontime, Darcy jumped up purposefully and left the room. Unbeknownst to the others, he had remembered the horrifying raven-feather wreaths unnecessarily adorning the hatchments on the front doors. He removed them with no little vigour.
This burst of energy did not expend Darcy’s disquiet. There was much to consider, some of it entirely not his concern, but worry he would. He paced the broad top step of the Rosings entrance, pondering the disposition of Longbourn now that its heir was no more. Were there other absurd cousins to inherit? What became of estates for which there was no heir? Could he buy the estate and turn it over to the Bennets by deed of gift? And if he could, what was the possibility of doing so secretly?
His thoughts turned to heirs and the improbability of ever marrying. It would fall to Georgiana’s eventual marriage to produce Pemberley’s heir, perhaps the child taking the Darcy name, or some adoption could be arranged. There was little romance in the legalities of inheritance.
He further considered the necessity of teaching his cousin a great deal about estate management in a very short time. It was nearly May with its need to interrupt the Season for the annual trip to Pemberley and remain a fortnight to oversee the spring planting. Perhaps Alex should join him; they must speak of it and also of when Alex would resign his commission. What a transition, to cease thinking of him as a colonel and begin to think of him as landed gentry.
His thoughts returned to Georgiana, and he worried over the absence of Mrs. Annesley. She had stayed in London to collect the remainder of the orders placed for Georgiana’s mourning clothes and would join them as soon as everything was assembled. Surely, the various modistes and milliners knew time was of the essence. If he did not have a message from Darcy House in the morning stating his sister’s companion was on her way, he would be writing to her.
He began to think of his new position as trustee of the money left to Charlotte Collins by Anne. It would be a short-lived task, but how was he to advise her? She had been seven and twenty when they met in the autumn, and now she was a widow. There was no reason to withhold anything from the entire sum, but she should buy a little cottage in Meryton and invest the remainder in the four percents.
“I do not mean to say that a woman may not be settled too near her family,” came a fondly remembered voice. As did every word exchanged with Elizabeth, these haunted him. That simple sentence innocently led him to believe he would be accepted should he decide to pay his addresses. Considering all that followed, he had been mistaken to cling to this speech and had not properly attended the rest of what she had said. Elizabeth had meant to explain that his pride kept him woefully above such menial considerations as to how a woman, or anyone not of his class, might travel about the country. She meant him to know that she thought him shallow and unfeeling for those beneath him. Of course, she was right.
The colonel stepped outside, and watched for a moment as his distracted cousin stood gazing with apparent absence of mind, holding a raven-feather wreath of substantial proportions in either hand. “Toss them onto the lawn, Cousin, if you are of a mind to…”
Darcy startled. He then laughed at himself. “You see me considering my failings, Alex.”
“Cease torturing yourself. None of this is of your making. It is time we departed for our dinner with the ladies. I have heard enough of Bingley asking about the propriety of carrying on a courtship during a lady’s time of mourning for a cousin she thought little of.” Colonel Fitzwilliam shook his head ruefully, and Darcy laughed.
“I find it difficult to imagine Miss Bennet thinking little of anyone.”
“She has told Bingley that Mrs. Collins has advised her to be more forthcoming with her feelings.” The colonel snorted. “Bingley may be in for it now! Perhaps there is a shrew under the placid exterior of Miss Bennet.”
“Oh, I doubt that. Perhaps simply a more garden-variety woman who has seen the error of holding herself to a higher standard of comportment than is sensible.” I know this error, for I have seen it in myself. “Are we to walk?”
“Yes, all of us. Bingley and Georgie will be down directly.”
Darcy took the wreaths to the butler and urged him to dispose of them in a manner that would assure their never being seen again.
Darcy strode out ahead, reaching the garden gate at the vicarage a few moments before the rest of the party, and saw Elizabeth, Jane, and Charlotte on benches in the side garden. Like blackbirds in a flower garden bursting with daffodils, their black skirts and lace were jarring against the bright gold and yellow. After a moment’s alarm, he reminded himself that one had lost a husband, however bumptious, and two had lost a cousin, the heir to their father’s estate, howsoever ill esteemed. He looked down to hide a smile; he preferred them in their simple country muslins.
He watched Jane Bennet blush prettily as Bingley greeted her. Charlotte Collins maintained perfect aplomb, but her eyes followed the colonel. Elizabeth engaged Georgiana directly, and Darcy felt very much an afterthought in her greeting.
The dinner was a subdued meal as anyone would have expected. Colonel Fitzwilliam and Charlotte managed small talk that included everyone. Elizabeth was uncharacteristically silent, and Darcy could not believe she would be so affected by the death of Mr. Collins. Perhaps the near loss of her own life was the more sobering influence. It was an oddity, to be sure, for Georgiana to be the one attempting to draw Elizabeth out. Bingley and Jane existed in a world of their own, and Darcy tried to hide his envy.
The sexes did not separate after the meal. Given the mixture of dishes offered from the best of those brought by the villagers, it was little wonder that Charlotte suggested they delay the dessert course until the coffee and tea were prepared. Darcy could scarce imagine what ostentatious and insipid sweets the local ladies might have fashioned, but he knew it was all, every bite, most kindly meant.
In the best parlour of the vicarage, Charlotte had just begun an unnecessary apology for the erratic quality of the previous courses when the Sunday quiet was disturbed by the approach and halt of a carriage upon the road. Maria ran to the window.
“Lizzy! Jane! It is your father!”
Elizabeth followed her, and indeed, Mr. Bennet had emerged from their family’s elderly chaise and four and was veritably dashing along the path to the front door.
Much to the surprise of the rest of the party, Mr. Thomas Bennet entered the house in a rush. Although Elizabeth was moved to seek a fatherly embrace, for she had missed his company these eight weeks away, something in his bearing stopped her progress. “Papa! You have come all this way on a Sunday?” she cried.
“What would you have me do, child? First, I receive a letter telling me you are an heiress to a fortune in jewels, but my curiosity might have survived that. Next, I receive a demand from a man I have never met in the whole of my life insisting, in a highly unsuitable manner, to bless his marriage to my eldest daughter, asking me to take the word of Mr. Darcy as to his character! I might have invite
d the fellow to Longbourn after giving the matter due consideration, but last night an express arrived announcing so many deaths that I have lost count, and my dearest daughters in the midst of it. Your mother is in a state of panic, and this once, she is more than justified. I set off at first light, hoping to prevent further slaughter. Charlotte, your father is not so impolitic as to travel on a Sunday, having merely lost a son-in-law, but Sir William will arrive tomorrow to see Maria home.”
Bingley and Jane stared suspiciously at the colonel.
The room was silent but for Mr. Bennet’s laboured breathing, and his eyes searched each face.
After an indecently long pause, which neither Darcy nor Elizabeth was inclined to end, the colonel stepped forward with a sheepish expression.
“Mr. Bennet, please accept my apologies. I am Colonel Alexander Fitzwilliam.” He bowed formally.
“Yes, young man, you should apologise for being Colonel Alexander Fitzwilliam. You must be a great burden to your family; the insane generally are. I believe the Fitzwilliam family is sadly marked.” Mr. Bennet turned to look again at Bingley, who bowed. “Mr. Bingley…” He glanced at Jane. “My dear, how many suitors have you?” Mr. Bennet made a show of looking under the straight chairs. “Are there more?”
Jane’s blush darkened, and she looked down. “The colonel has realised his error. To me, he never was an object.” She glanced at Bingley then down again.
Mr. Bennet saw Bingley smile broadly, and he rolled his eyes. He gave the colonel a disparaging glance. “Fickle are you, sir?”
Colonel Fitzwilliam had not felt so diminished in confidence and authority since his first days in the army. “So it might seem, Mr. Bennet.”
Darcy was Mr. Bennet’s next victim. “Mr. Darcy, we meet again. You have taken some pleasure, I understand, in insulting my Lizzy. At this moment, I am happy—no, relieved—that she is not handsome enough to tempt you.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes, thinking her mortification complete.
Darcy had also closed his eyes and did not know Elizabeth was his competition in exhibiting humiliation.
“Mr. Bennet…” Darcy began after another momentary silence.
He was ignored as Mr. Bennet fired another volley. “Charlotte, I am sorry for your loss, perhaps sorrier than you are for yourself. You have lost a pompous, insensible husband, but I have lost my heir unless you are…?” He waved his hand vaguely around his own middle.
Charlotte coloured and shook her head. No, she was not with child.
“Ah, well, I should have known Mr. Collins would fail me in this. Now I must exert a great deal of effort, and likely expense, to save Longbourn from reverting to the Crown when I am gone.”
“Father…” Elizabeth hissed, trying to effect some amendment to the flow of his indignation.
She too was ignored. “But that is of little matter compared to the placement of my dearest daughters into a viper’s nest. I would not have thought it of your esteemed family, Mr. Darcy. A mad and murderous aunt and a witless cousin, however decorated in the wars.”
“Papa…” Elizabeth made another attempt.
Mr. Bennet’s eyes landed on Georgiana. Her obvious fear of his wrath slightly quieted his savage breast, and he enquired in a gentler tone, “And who might you be, my dear?”
Darcy spoke. “Mr. Bennet, please allow me to present my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy.”
She curtsied. Mr. Bennet bowed properly and then turned to Bingley.
“She is a charming child, Mr. Bingley. Are we to wish you joy?”
Elizabeth’s fingers pressed against her brow as she bowed her head. She recalled everything Darcy had written about the impropriety shown by her father. She wondered how she was not fainting at this when she had swooned easily the day before. Oblivion would be most welcomed and sooner rather than later. She thought briefly of all the times she had wished her father would exert himself in the family’s defence. Now was not one of those times if an endless philippic was his method of protection.
“I do not have the pleasure of understanding you, sir,” Bingley said, bristling.
“Perhaps I was misinformed, but I heard in a letter from your sister Miss Bingley, which was read to the family by Mrs. Bennet, that my beautiful Jane was jilted for this young lady. She is pretty enough, I grant you, but she appears very young.
“However, I am not here to sort out squandered romances. Who here has enough information to apprise me of all I should know?”
“I believe I do, Mr. Bennet,” Charlotte said.
“And I, sir.” The colonel stepped forward. He caught Darcy’s eye and the men exchanged nods of agreement.
“Let me show you to the book room, Mr. Bennet,” said Charlotte. “It will be at your disposal for as long as you are with us.” She led him out of the room.
The colonel started to follow but whispered loud enough in Darcy’s ear for everyone to hear, “I thought you said the old boy was an indolent and indifferent father, Darcy. I have never in all my life been more insulted without hope of defending myself.” With a joyless smile, he made a general bow to the others and left the room.
Georgiana looked from her brother to Bingley and back again. “I believe Mr. Bennet is not the only one owed an explanation.”
“Would anyone care for a glass of wine first?” asked Elizabeth.
Everyone did.
When Georgiana’s questions had been answered as truthfully as possible by whosoever in the room could best accomplish the consideration of each query, Mr. Bennet was still cloistered with Charlotte and Colonel Fitzwilliam. What might be done about feeding him and settling where he should sleep occupied Jane and Elizabeth while conversation continued in a less fraught manner between Georgiana and her brother. Maria was set the task of moving some of Charlotte’s personal items into her room. The sisters would share to allow Mr. Bennet the best bed.
When Elizabeth returned to the drawing room, she raised her eyebrows to Darcy, nodding at him to follow her to the window. Her concerns were evident as she said, “You must allow me to apologise, Mr. Darcy. I know my father’s faults, but I have never known him to be so injudicious. You must believe me, I am mortified.”
In truth, Darcy found her earnest expression beguiling, and although he longed to tease her, he chose to respond seriously. “This is no reflection upon you. Mr. Bennet has been abundantly provoked. I do not blame him.” He paused. “He seeks to protect you.” Would that the task were mine, not his.
“You are kind. He has had little practice in coming to our defence, and he is clumsy, even indelicate.”
Darcy’s dimples nearly emerged. “We have been well instructed as to the value of practice, you and I. I know of no one as skilled as you at sketching character or better attuned to the atmosphere in a room.” Darcy crossed his arms over his chest to resist the urge to calm her in his arms.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “How can you say such a thing? You know what my failings have been.”
Darcy lowered his voice to avoid his sister’s hearing. “You were subjected to the arts of an accomplished dissembler. You could not have guessed—”
Elizabeth impulsively placed her hand upon Darcy’s forearm. “It was not to that man I was referring, sir.” She met his eyes pointedly before moving away, blushing to have touched the sleeve of his frock coat.
Darcy turned to the corner chair he usually occupied when in this room. The floor had suddenly tilted under his feet, and he was uncertain whether it was the effect of the odd meal or the fine eyes and soft voice of Elizabeth Bennet. He sat without grace, nearly missing the seat.
Only Georgiana noticed her brother’s disquiet and the high colour of her new friend.
When the colonel and Charlotte had at last answered Mr. Bennet’s many questions, they were released from attending him, and like comrades in arms w
ho have been tortured together, their exchanged expressions spoke eloquently of a bond others would never comprehend.
They joined the party in the best parlour, and Charlotte approved the arrangements made by Jane and Elizabeth to organise the household around its new addition.
“Your father has asked us to send you to him, Lizzy,” Charlotte informed her.
“I shall take him a tray.” Elizabeth curtsied from the doorway. “I must say good evening. Once my father and I are alone and conversing after a long separation, it may be near morning before we emerge.”
Immediately after she left them, Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam took their leave, returning to Rosings on foot, where they would send a carriage for Bingley and Georgiana.
The cousins walked silently at first, and then the colonel said, “I believe Mr. Bennet was not as taken in by the charms of Wickham as Elizabeth was, and even Charlotte could not imagine the extent of his profligacy until she read Anne’s journals.”
Darcy merely nodded.
“But I am not certain that Mr. Bennet is as convinced as he should be that the man is a thorough bleeder. The militia is on the point of removing from Meryton to Brighton, and there is talk of Miss Lydia venturing there in the household of Colonel Forster. I have always found Forster far too lenient.”
Darcy became livelier at this news. “Bennet must not allow it! Surely you warned him.”
“Mrs. Collins spoke of Lydia’s wildness. I said what I could of Wickham, but Mr. Bennet was not inclined to think his youngest an object for a mercenary predator. I could hardly speak of Wickham’s preference for spoiling fresh young things before Mrs. Collins now, could I?”
Darcy stopped walking. “Miss Lydia Bennet must not go to Brighton. It is courting disaster. I shall speak to the man first thing tomorrow.”
The colonel said, “Good,” and they continued walking.
A Will of Iron Page 15