by Glenna Mason
“I guess I look elsewhere for my lady’s maid.”
“We have lovely choices already at Darcy House and Pemberley. I only suggested Pauline, as an escape for her. But if she insists on continuing to protect Caroline, I don’t want her anywhere near my wife.”
“Oh?”
“I do not trust Caroline Bingley. She could be dangerous, maniacal even. She knocked her maid out cold, for some unfathomable reason. She could have killed her.”
“I notice that Mr. Bingley didn’t invite his sister to accompany us today. I understand she is a fine horsewoman.”
“No,” Darcy said with a broad smile. “Charles wanted to be with Miss Bennet without interference from his unpredictable sister.”
“Mr. Bingley and Jane?” Elizabeth finished her query with her eyes.
“Yes,” Darcy answered, his dimples twinkling in response.
“I guess that leaves Mary.”
“Not for long.”
“Lydia is a Countess now,” Elizabeth announced.
“Oh?”
“We got formal word this morning.”
“Wickham had some use then.”
“How so?”
“Even Lydia can contrast a man who earns his way by kidnapping and ransom with one who inherits it.”
“You’re right. Lydia is all about Lydia. She’ll take the sure thing over the maybe anytime.”
*****
Darcy had a conference with Bingley when they returned to the study of Netherfield. Darcy congratulated him on his engagement, advised him about his suspicions regarding Caroline and the attack and let him know that with Caroline in residence he could no longer stay at Netherfield.
“I should return to Pemberley anyway. You are comfortably settled, and the Bennets are nearby to assist you. My estate manager and staff need me. I’ve never been away so long in the autumn.”
“What of Miss Elizabeth?”
“Elizabeth understands the demands of a landowner. After all, she reads her father’s agricultural journals,” Darcy answered with a smile.
“You will all be with me at New Year’s, and then I’ll be returning in February for my wedding and the Season.”
“And Georgiana?”
“She will travel to Pemberley for the Festive Season in one of our carriages, like she always does.”
“Oh?”
“I’ll have armed outriders accompanying her this time.”
“Where is Wickham by the way?”
“Luckily for all of us, he chose a commission by the coast near Bristol.”
*****
Darcy rode over after dinner to tell the Bennets good-bye. He and Elizabeth had discussed his probable departure during their afternoon ride. She understood the necessity. She supported his decision.
Elizabeth escorted Darcy to his horse, after his final farewells to the rest of the family. Tears welled in her eyes. “I’ll miss you, my love.”
“I could stay. I could move to the Meryton Inn or go back to London.”
“No, you should see to your estate. It is an important obligation. I’d not feel right, if I kept you from your duties.”
“My carriages will be in tandem with the Matlocks and the Heyburns.”
“Excellent. That should be safer.”
“I’ll write you every day.” He smiled. “Probably bore you to death.”
“Our letters will pass in route.”
“Know that I love you as no man has ever loved a woman.”
“Did some poet say that?”
“I don’t know. Did he?”
“If not, then you speak like a poet, Fitzwilliam.”
“Five months, my Elizabeth.”
“I’ll see you the end of December.”
“Five months, until you are mine.”
They kissed sweetly and then he mounted. Elizabeth waited in the same spot until he disappeared from view. At the last moment he turned in his saddle and waved.
December 28
Pemberley
Darcy awoke in a state of euphoria. Elizabeth arrived today at Pemberley. He had not seen her in eight long weeks. He had invited Elizabeth and her father to stay the month of January at Pemberley.
Mrs. Bennet, Mary, Kitty and Jane would travel back in the Bennet carriage January the fifth. The Hursts, Bingley and the colonel would accompany the ladies in a second conveyance, Georgiana and her maid in a third.
There was safety in numbers. Highwaymen were abundant during the holidays. Georgiana and the colonel would spend one night at the Bennets, and then he would escort her back to her London school. Darcy would send Elizabeth and her father home in one of his carriages January the thirty-first, armed riders in attendance.
“I have to plan our wedding,” Elizabeth had reminded Darcy, when he had originally invited them to stay until mid-February and ride back to Hertfordshire with him.
Darcy was satisfied. It would only be a two week separation. He would be supremely busy anyway, preparing Pemberley for his absence, February through May. Darcy often went to London for the Season, so his steward was used to the spring management being a long distance one.
Due to the joy that filled Darcy’s heart in anticipation of his engagement ball, Darcy magnanimously included not only Lydia and her Count, but also George Wickham on his guest list. Darcy assumed that the two could be in the same house, since it was a very large one. He also sent an invitation to Louisa and Gilbert Hurst.
All the house guests were expected to visit Pemberley from December twenty-eight until January fifth. The Hursts were traveling in a carriage with her brother Charles and Colonel Fitzwilliam. He had not heard from Wickham or Lydia. But Darcy knew that didn’t mean they were not coming. With those two, who could possibly know?
At least with the invitation, Wickham would comprehend that Darcy now truly meant that by-gones should be by-gones. They were friends again. Wickham was welcome at Pemberley. That was the ultimate confirmation. As for Lydia, she was his future wife’s sister. That alone secured her and her count an invitation to Pemberley—well, as long as Elizabeth concurred.
Darcy did not invite Caroline Bingley. She had caused a near disaster at the last ball. She’d not get a chance to ruin this one. Anyway Darcy sensed something very scary about Caroline these days. His premonitions warned him that somehow Caroline might someday threaten Elizabeth. He knew that the messages he received through the ether were sometimes either a fallacy or an improbability. Nevertheless, he couldn’t ignore his sensory perceptions, when they flamed this bright. There was also one more simple calculation. He didn’t want Caroline at his ball in any case.
The Earl and Countess of Matlock, Anne de Bourgh, Viscount Miles and Mason Heyburn were also coming today as house guests. Darcy’s ball was New Year’s Eve. His neighbor, the Earl of Westboro, was having a ball two days later. The two had consulted and included each other’s house guests on the list for their parties. So it would be a gala visit. Two balls in two days.
Darcy and Georgiana and Mrs. Reynolds, the Pemberley housekeeper, had everything organized to the minutest detail, before the guests arrived. Darcy and Georgiana didn’t want to worry about anything except enjoying the company of their friends.
The Earl, Countess and Anne pulled in front of Pemberley just about noon; the Heyburns soon followed. After a casual lunch, the five settled their maids, valets and trunks in their rooms and then joined the Darcys in the parlor to await the other guests.
Mason had been to the Earl’s estate multiple times in the past two months to woo Anne de Bourgh. He had brought his parents, the Earl and Countess of Westfield, with him one night to dinner. He wanted the three of them to get to know each other in a less formal surrounding than the New Year’s Eve ball.
As usual Anne charmed everyone—except of course her own mother. Lady Catherine had written Anne and her brother, the Earl, insisting on Anne’s return to Rosings. All the pleadings, threats and warnings had been summarily ignored.
“When is it that you
turn twenty-six, my dear?” the Earl had asked at the dinner with the Westfields.
“March seven,” Anne answered, slowly savoring the thought of that day of freedom.
“Isn’t that the same date as Darcy’s wedding?”
“It is.”
“What a day of celebration that will be.”
“Less than three months,” Anne said, smiling sweetly at Mason.
“Lady Anne, what is the significance of your twenty-sixth birthday? You seem quite delighted to be getting older. Not the attitude most of us ladies imitate,” Lady Westfield said, jovially.
“Anne’s father left his estate to Anne in its entirety, to be fully hers on her twenty-sixth birthday. Her mother loses control on that date of Anne and the properties.”
“How extraordinary! Congratulations, Lady Anne. We women are seldom so fortunate in this day and age.”
“My father was an exceptional man.”
“Lady Anne has agreed to marry me on March seven,” Mason casually announced.
“What!” the four adults exclaimed.
“Darcy and Miss Elizabeth know. We’re joining them in a double wedding,” Mason said.
“As I am sure you remember, Uncle, Jane and Charles wanted their own special day, as did Richard and Kitty.”
Then Anne turned her attention to the Westfields and explained, “They are to be wed, March fourteenth and twenty-first respectively. Mason and I are only waiting for my birthday. I would need my mother’s permission before March seven. She’d never give it.”
“Oh?”
“Since my cousin Darcy and his fiancée Elizabeth planned an early March wedding, we decided to share a wedding day, my birthday to be exact.”
“How romantic,” Lady Westfield said.
“Fitzwilliam Darcy is the closest person in my life, along with Richard Fitzwilliam of course,” Anne said, nodding at her aunt and uncle. “They are almost like brothers to me.”
“Anne has had a lonely existence, far away from all of us, sheltered from society in Kent,” the Earl explained.
“So,” Anne continued her story to her future in-laws, “when Mason requested I marry him, I rode Princess over to Pemberley one day and requested that Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth allow Mason and me to share their wedding day. They were both delighted. We decided it would be a much deserved lesson for my mother, if we selected my birthday. So March seven it is.”
“What a delicious irony,” Lady Matlock said with a giant grin. “Congratulations, to both of you.”
“So you’re to marry in Meryton then?” the Earl of Matlock asked.
“We’ve moved the weddings to St George’s, London. We decided with two couples and four sets of friends, tiny Meryton would be overwhelmed.”
The Earls and Countesses arose, as did Mason and Anne. Everyone moved around the table extending and receiving hugs. Congratulations flowed. “Time for some champagne,” the Earl announced and rang for the butler. “Let’s adjourn to the parlor.”
Once settled in with their champagne, Anne explained, “Mason wants to continue his studies of jurisprudence and pursue a career in the law, perhaps stand for office someday. So we shall open the long neglected townhouse in London and live there most of the year.”
“And Rosings?”
“Mother will have to move to the Dowager’s House. I do not appreciate her treatment of the servants or tenants. I intend to be an enlightened mistress of Rosings. When Mason can take some time off, we shall vacation there. That way Mason and I can oversee the overseer.” She smiled at that. “You must all visit us there. It is a beautiful estate that I plan to enhance in every way. The gardens especially are glorious.”
“Have you seen Rosings yet, Mason?” his father asked.
“No, Father,” he said, hesitantly.
“I’m very much afraid that I cannot go there—and so neither can Mason—until I’m twenty-six.”
“Why?”
“Mother is a tyrant. She might lock me in the attics. I might never see Mason again.”
Lady Westfield looked horrified. “Surely you exaggerate.”
“I’m afraid that she doesn’t, my Lady. My sister has been cruel and thwarting to Anne, wanting to keep control of the estate at all costs. Heaven only wonders why. She seldom does anything except sit around and complain. She can do that to her heart’s content in the very charming Dowager’s House.”
They all smiled at his rendition of a serious foible. “Anne is safe now with us here in Derby. I am very determined to protect her interests until March seven, when she inherits and gains legal control. And,” he said, smiling at Mason, “marries. She’s Mason’s problem then.”
“Not problem, sir,” Mason graciously declared, “inspiration and love.”
*****
A week later Anne and Mason sat on the love seat together, reading Shakespeare’s sonnets, awaiting the carriages from the south. Darcy nervously paced the floor. “You’re going to wear a hole in the oriental, Brother,” Georgiana teased. So he sat, hands nervously drumming his knees. His aunt and uncle looked amused. Viscount Miles seemed almost as anxious, playing first with his cuffs and next with his cravat.
A horn sounded. “They’re here,” Darcy shouted. Miles jumped to his feet. Darcy, Miles and Georgiana rushed to the front hall. They’d wait here for the footmen to open the carriage doors. It was cold outside.
The front door swung open and in flounced Lydia, wrapped in fur. “Darcy, how droll. What a palace you have.” She went over to Miles and pinched his cheek. “And who is this cute young man?”
A man of about thirty walked sedately through the portal, presumably the count. “Count?” Darcy asked.
The Count stepped forward and bowed deeply. “Bon jour. Count Pierre de Loirre at your service.”
“Welcome to Pemberley. I am Fitzwilliam Darcy. Please call me Darcy. This is my sister Georgiana and Viscount Miles Heyburn.”
“You came all the way from Northumberland?” Georgiana asked.
“Non. London. Il fait tres froid in the North. We move in le printemp.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
“Come and meet our other guests and then you can retire to your suite to refresh and relax. Cocktails at six, dinner at eight.”
Mrs. Reynolds instructed the footmen in the delivery of the trunks. Then she ordered tea. After introductions and tea, the Count and Countess de Loirre retired to their rooms to bathe. A second horn sounded.
“This had better not be Wickham,” Darcy said.
*****
Three carriages circled down the hill, while the guests and the Darcys watched from the front parlor window. The windows, which reached from near the ceiling almost to the floor, gave a spectacular view. Elizabeth spied the watchers and waved. Darcy ran from the room and out onto the front porch, where he literally skipped down the front steps like an Eton school boy.
The footman had barely lowered the steps of the carriage, when Elizabeth threw open the door and flew into Darcy’s open arms. “My love,” they said and then laughed in happiness, as he twirled her round and round.
“Come in,” Darcy invited. “There are warm fires awaiting you in the parlor and your rooms.”
The hallway became a scene of unbridled commotion, as the Matlocks, the Heyburns, Georgiana and Anne greeted the newcomers, footman gathered coats, scarves, hats and muffs and Mrs. Bennet screeched in amazement.
“Lizzy, this is your house?” Mrs. Bennet shouted for all to hear.
“Not quite yet, Mama.”
“Of course it is Elizabeth’s, Mrs. Bennet,” Darcy corrected. “Mr. Bennet and I signed the settlement papers before I left Hertfordshire. Elizabeth and Georgiana became my heirs the moment my signature registered on that page. I have also altered my will accordingly.”
“Oh, my. How many rooms are there?”
“Enough, Mrs. Bennet,” Mr. Bennet said in a double entendre. “Let us retire to our rooms and refresh. Then we can join the others for tea.”
&n
bsp; “Shall we meet in the music room in a half hour?” Georgiana suggested. “Mary, Elizabeth and I can provide soft music in the background, while everyone relaxes and gets re-acquainted.”
“Excellent idea,” Darcy concurred. “Mrs. Reynolds will show you to your rooms.”
When the others started up the stairs, Darcy clasped Mr. Bennet on the shoulder and drew him aside. “Oh, ho, Bennet! Do I have a surprise for you!”
“Yes, Darcy,” Mr. Bennet replied, his eyes twinkling.
“Lydia and the Count are here.”
“Unbelievable.”
“I wanted you forewarned in case you meet in the upper hall. They are to join us for cocktails at six.”
“How does she look?”
“Look?”
“Yes.”
“Why, just the same.”
“No furs or diamond necklaces.”
“I didn’t notice.”
“You wouldn’t,” Bennet laughed, clasping his son-to-be around the shoulder. Then Mr. Bennet became serious. “I hope that Mrs. Bennet is not too big a trial. She’s unmanageable at best, but with Lydia—I just don’t know! The two of them, inspired by the beautiful environs and the new title, may soar to new heights of absurdity.”
Darcy smiled. “From unmanageable to uncontrollable, perhaps.” Then he added, “Don’t worry, Bennet. It’s all family.”
“But the balls.”
“There are eight of us, including Gilbert Hurst and the Earl. We will take turns attending to the two, if need be.”
“You and I can take the mammoth’s share of the load, I suppose.”
“We might. What we will most certainly do is organize their dance cards, so they are never free. I want Elizabeth to enjoy her engagement ball and become the toast of Derbyshire, not stand in a corner mortified at the idiosyncrasies of her mother and sister.”
“We could enlist the rector.”
“Rectors are famous for their inclination to help parishioners,” Darcy laughed. “And now that I think of it I have three good friends who will help us out with at least one dance each night. We have the Earl of Westboro’s ball to consider also, after all.”