by J Dawn King
Once Mrs. Reynolds was in his study, he began questioning her about the changes made during the two months he had been in Hertfordshire with Bingley.
“No, sir.” Mrs. Reynolds replied. “Miss Darcy has had no visitors here at Pemberley. Over the past several weeks, she has received several letters from a schoolmate, Miss Crim. She is always delighted when one arrives, and she smiles readily after. Why, I have watched her go from morose to genuinely happy. It brings joy to my heart to see her recovered so quickly.”
“I thank you, Mrs. Reynolds. My trust in your ability to see to Georgiana is proved true, as always. Has she said anything to you about this Miss Crim? I am not familiar with the family name.”
“Miss Darcy confided that she too is a mild and quiet young lady, similar in personality to our girl. They have been long acquainted at school, but Miss Crim was traveling with her parents for the summer, so their regular correspondence began only recently. As is proper, Mrs. Annesley attends your sister when each of the letters arrives.”
“Have there been many?”
Mrs. Reynolds put her finger to her chin as she pondered his question. “I believe she receives one almost every week. If I recall correctly, there have been three letters that have arrived. Miss Darcy is quick to return the correspondence. Her reply to yesterday’s letter went out with the morning post.”
While Darcy was pleased Georgiana was acting responsibly with following through with her obligations, something still unsettled him. He was put at ease with his housekeeper’s next comment.
“I will confess to finding Miss Darcy in the library not too long after you joined Mr. Bingley. She was reading Mary Wollstonecraft’s book, A Vindication of the Rights of Woman. I did not know if this was deemed as appropriate reading for a young lady of tender years.”
Ah! That explained much about the drastic change in his sister’s temperament. He had heard of more than one case where a timid wife had taken on the revolution fomented by the author. If it gave his sister more boldness, he would not complain.
“Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds. I believe you are correct.”
Dismissing the housekeeper, Darcy meditated on the difference having Elizabeth in his home would bring to his entire family. Should his wife be correct, that Georgiana took on the personality of those she was around, then Elizabeth and Mrs. Mansfield’s example would bring the young girl to her senses as well as seeing to her future happiness.
Nodding his head, he determined to work through his own letters, which had been delivered in the early morning post. Sorting the pile, he was disappointed at least half were not for Georgiana or Elizabeth. Sighing at the daunting task in front of him, he selected the first letter, broke the seal, and began.
Before he could finish his first reply to the top letter in the largest pile, an express rider arrived with a scathing missive from Lord Matlock and Lady Catherine. Glancing over its contents, he stood and consigned the parchment to the fire. He had no need to waste his time attempting to soothe their ire toward him for marrying Elizabeth. As he had decided earlier, he was more than pleased with his choice.
Unexpectedly, another express rider arrived. This time, the letter was for Elizabeth from her sister Mary, the quiet Bennet girl. Concerned at a young lady assuming the expense of that form of delivery, he called a footman to see that Elizabeth received her letter immediately.
He had just reseated himself after taking several calming breaths to slow his pounding heartbeat at the concern for his wife when Elizabeth burst into the room. In her hand was the letter from her middle sister. The storm clouds brewing in her eyes let him know more than words that he would find reading the letter as unpleasant as Elizabeth had.
Without a word, she handed the parchment to him, then sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk. He glanced down.
Miss Mary Bennet
Longbourn, Hertfordshire
Dear Lizzy,
You cannot know how much I miss your cheerful countenance amid the constant chaos here at Longbourn. I hope you are doing well and finding joy in the Lord’s blessed arrangement of the marital union. (He looked up at Elizabeth, only to see her shrug. Which part of the union in marriage Miss Mary was thinking of was a mystery to Darcy. He continued.)
Several events of note have taken place since your departure. I worried they may affect you, so I used the remainder of my pin money to get this to you as quickly as possible.
There has been an investigator snooping around Meryton. He found a willing ear and an open mouth in Mama, who shared all she knew of Mr. Darcy and you. Most unfortunately, she also boasted, which is in direct contrast to the counsel of the Scriptures, that her girls now had healthy dowries in great part due to the generous nature of her new son-in-law. The man, a Mr. Oscar Huggins, wrote in a small notebook all the sordid details she has imagined about the reason for your quick marriage. Between her and Aunt Philips, you were compromised by Mr. Darcy sometime during Mr. Bingley’s ball. They insist that Mr. Darcy was forced to offer for you. Additionally, rumors have been rife about the mysterious woman and baby who joined your party in Meryton immediately after you wed. All hold that she is Mr. Darcy’s mistress and the babe is his natural child. If this is true, Lizzy, your new life must be untenable. I am sorry. I would not have thought this of Mr. Darcy. I do hope it is only malicious slander promulgated by women who have nothing better to do than meddle in someone else’s business.
You should know that your marriage had a keen effect on Mr. Bingley. His confusion over the matter has not abated. That he has heard nothing by the time of my writing this letter continues to concern him. His depressed spirit was only lessened when the investigator took it upon himself to ask our disconsolate neighbor about Mr. Darcy. You cannot imagine how quickly Mr. Bingley’s ire was raised. He told Mr. Huggins nothing. I wish I could say the same about Miss Caroline Bingley. The jealous rottenness that spewed from her mouth about your character, Lizzy, was terrible to hear. Again, Mr. Huggins appeared thorough with his notes. That Miss Bingley would do this in your former home in front of your family intensified the vileness of her words. Neither Papa nor Mama did anything to stop her. I left the room. I could hear no more.
Something equally as shocking is the news that Mr. Wickham has engaged himself to Miss Mary King. Lydia and Kitty assume it was because of her recent inheritance of ten-thousand-pounds. This I cannot confirm. Needless to say, both of our youngest sisters are now determined to marry quickly, like you and Mr. Darcy, to anyone who will have them. Their lack of sense continues to confound me. How can they be related to the rest of us Bennet daughters? This, I cannot fathom.
I will tell you and you alone, dear Lizzy, that Papa rarely leaves his book room. He is more isolated than when you were here, if you can imagine. Mama boasts of their good fortune in having a wealthy man for a son. She has no shame, Lizzy, I am sorry to say. Now that I have reread what I have written, I can see clearly how much the manners of Kitty and Lydia reflect Mama’s own.
I shall close this in the hope you are doing well. Mr. Huggins appears to have left Hertfordshire, or he is performing his investigation in other parts of the shire. I would love for our family to revert to what it was before the events of last week. Yet, I know this is impossible.
Do know that you are greatly missed by me and Jane. I long to hear your reassurances.
With love and tender affection,
MB
Darcy placed the paper carefully onto his desk as he studied his wife. Her hands were gripped together, the white showing on the backs of her knuckles. Her right foot tapped on the carpeting below her. Her back was rigid.
“Elizabeth, other than the news of Wickham’s engagement, this is as expected, is it not?”
Her voice shook. “While I had anticipated your family investigating our circumstances, the reality that it is actually occurring has me unsettled. How can we protect Jem? What if your aunt and uncle find out about Abigail? Have we been so thorough in covering our tracks that no one can discover that littl
e boy upstairs is, in truth, a Fitzwilliam? I cannot...I cannot imagine him being pulled from us, Will. Pray reassure me, dear husband, because I cannot shake the feeling that catastrophe is looming, and our house of cards will collapse.”
How could he bolster her when he felt exactly the same? Rounding the desk, he sat next to her, took her hand in his and held on for dear life.
Chapter 14
Shouts originating from the quarterdeck drew Richard’s attention to the starboard side. Taking up the spy glass his Uncle Darcy had given to him as a boy, he saw the heavy sails of a warship approaching. The vessel was sitting tall out of the water. He feared they were about to see up close one of the vaisseaux de 118, Napoleon’s 118-gun battleships, newly launched from Toulon.
Directing his troops to follow the orders of the ship’s captain, Richard, as the senior commanding officer of his regiment, moved to the bow along with Major Milford. They needed to remain out of the way.
Already their ship was at full sail. When the captain ordered heavy supplies be dumped overboard, his regiment gave ready assistance. Nonetheless, the warship gained on them despite their efforts.
Mentally calculating the odds of survival should the French warship engage them, Richard understood it could be the last day he drew breath. With his son well taken care of by Darcy, the simple truth was he did not regret the thought of joining Anne in the grave. However, he was not alone. Most of the troops serving under him had family to return to. With that in mind, any hint of fatalistic thinking left him.
Years ago, their vessel had fought valiantly at Trafalgar. Because of needed repairs, the once first-rate top of the line 104-gun battleship had been relegated to a troopship. Guns had been removed to save weight and space. This left them vulnerable.
As the warship drew closer, Richard again lifted the glass to his eye. The lower deck had thirty-two 36-pounders while the middle deck held thirty-four 24-pounders. The upper deck had thirty-four 18-pound guns. It was the forecastle that held the carronades; six powerful, short-range anti-ship and anti-crew weapons of mass destruction.
When Napoleon’s battleship turned to show them her broadside, Richard’s eyes swept from bow to stern seeing every gun, every crewman standing at the railing of the 213 ft. vessel.
They were closer to England than the Spanish port-of-call, which was their destination, to no avail. They were out-gunned and out-manned. They were doomed.
Elizabeth had needed to speak with Mrs. Reynolds, so Darcy took it upon himself to update Mrs. Mansfield with their concerns. She was coming out of the nursery when he approached her in the hallway. Speaking softly so none of the servants could hear, he relayed most of the information Miss Mary had shared in her letter.
Unbeknownst to them, Georgiana spotted her brother and Mrs. Mansfield huddled together in the hallway outside the nursery. The new Mrs. Darcy was nowhere in sight. The conclusions Georgiana drew would have mortified her under normal circumstances. As far as she was concerned, what she saw verified in detail all that Wickham claimed. Mrs. Mansfield was not a friend of the family. Her position at Pemberley was an affront.
Georgiana yearned to run away to Scotland with her beloved, to be taken away from this den of iniquity her brother had created. Returning to her room, she sat at her desk, her quill poised over the ink bottle until her thoughts cleared. She knew her George was attempting to earn and save enough money to fund their travels. Georgiana decided to hurry the process along. While she had no ready notes and coins, she had jewelry left to her by her mother. She would ask William for permission to look at the cases. Then, she could secret away a small piece, possibly a pendant, to be delivered to George. He could finally leave the dreaded militia and come to her. Her dreams would come true.
Two days later, the circulating newspapers from London were delivered to Pemberley. Each contained the delayed announcement of the Darcy marriage. Additionally, a heavily blotted letter from Bingley arrived express. In it, he expressed his sincere appreciation for Darcy’s letter informing him of his marriage to Elizabeth. An invitation to return to Hertfordshire was enclosed, along with a warning of the slander traversing the neighborhood.
No, they would not be stopping at Meryton in the near future, if ever.
A thick packet from Mr. Peter Shaw came later that day. Inside it was Elizabeth’s marriage settlement which had first been delivered to Mr. Bennet for his signature. Turning to the final page, Darcy saw that the task had been completed by Elizabeth’s father and her uncle, the attorney.
Pleased that things were sorting themselves into order, he decided to visit Elizabeth’s study to see how she fared with her return letters to Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, Jane, and Mary.
Peeking through the opened door, he found his wife busily engaged with the baby, her stationery and writing materials ignored on her desk. Standing at the window, Elizabeth pointed out her favorite places in the garden to the lad.
“I would so enjoy accompanying you on a stroll down the pathways, Master Jem. But the Derbyshire air is far too cool for your fevered cheeks, young man.” She kissed that cheek as she held him facing the windowpanes. “In a few short months you will be anxious to run and play, to skip about this grand estate we now call home. Your...now, what will you call Will, I wonder? If we consider the exact relationship, you would be his cousin once removed. Yet, that is hardly an appellation for a youngster like you. I suggest Uncle. Yes, Uncle Will sounds perfectly reasonable to me. Does it to you?” At the baby’s silence, she continued, “Uncle Will, who I can tell is your favorite person in the whole world, will need to share your attention with Abigail and me. From us you will learn the proper way to treat a lady.”
Turning the babe in her arms, she continued to gaze out through the glass. Rocking him side to side, she continued. “Your Uncle and I had a rough beginning, something I want you to avoid at all costs. He hurt me. But I hurt him too, I am afraid. Neither of us were our best selves when in company.” She stopped moving to lean on the sill.
“You need to know how much my viewpoint towards your uncle has changed. I see his diligence at caring for his estate. Oh, not just the building and the grounds, for a certainty. You see, my good boy, he spends a monumental amount of time and effort to see to the needs he is responsible for, including you and me. In comparison, I comprehend how negligent is my own father. You have a wonderful example to follow.” Elizabeth kissed Jem’s forehead. “Hmm, your fever remains the same. This is good since it could have become worse, is that not so?”
When the baby nestled his head with his face into her neck, Darcy knew sleep would come within seconds. Nevertheless, Elizabeth continued to speak.
“Besides being an efficient caretaker, your Uncle Will is a good man. Not once has he complained about the messes you make. Amazingly, Parker has not either; at least not in my hearing,” she chuckled softly, mindful of the baby’s limp weight in her arms. “What I see as the true value of your uncle is his goodness towards those he loves. He would move mountains for you, I have no doubt. He would do the same for his sister. I even think he would do the same for me.” She scoffed, “Oh, not that I believe he is in love with me, for I have done nothing to earn such depth of feeling from the man. One day, perhaps. What do you say, young Jem? Do you think he could love this impertinent miss from Hertfordshire?”
Darcy was undone. Seeing the two of them together was enough to warm his heart. Her words set it on fire. ‘YES!’ he wanted to yell so loudly his wife could not fail to hear.
Unfortunately, before he could step into the room, he was hailed by his man of business, Mr. Stilton. Knowing the important task he was to have performed, Darcy regretfully turned from the doorway and walked away. Despite not being able to reassure Elizabeth at that moment, he would store up her expressions in his memory and treasure them for his lifetime.
“Mr. Hollister McAdams of the Rose and Thorn Inn offered his sincerest apologies for the delay in sending out your post.” Mr. Stilton proceeded to describe the devastating a
ccident involving the innkeeper’s son. “He offered any recompense you suggested, knowing full well he was singularly responsible for delaying your letters.”
The riddle why the letters had taken so long to arrive was solved. All in all, Darcy had no reason for complaint until he recalled one of the recipients. Richard.
Oh, Lord! Rubbing his hand over his chin, he realized his only opportunity for communicating with his cousin before he left for the continent had been missed. Regret churned in his gut.
Dismissing Mr. Stilton, he determined to write immediately, keeping in mind the need for caution as he chose his words carefully. Too many lives were at stake, especially that of the little babe, to be careless.
Fitzwilliam Darcy, Esquire
Pemberley, Derbyshire
Dear Cousin,
I understand from your father that the worst has happened. Pray accept my sincerest sympathy for the loss of Anne and your child. My heart aches for the pain you are suffering.
Do you remember the first time we both realized Anne was no longer a little girl? I still laugh at the shock on your face when the wind blew her dress just so. Your wife was a darling lady, a wonderful cousin, and a joyous friend when away from her mother.
Richard, I understand you left immediately to fight Napoleon. Would that have been the same choice I would have made? I do not know. However, I do not doubt your honor nor your attention to duty. Napoleon needs to watch out for Colonel Fitzwilliam.
My friend, I have done something most shocking. I married almost ten days ago. My wife, the former Miss Elizabeth Bennet, is from Hertfordshire. She has a ready wit, a beautiful smile, and eyes that see through me clearly. I am proud she is beside me here at Pemberley.
Possibly less surprising is that I have inherited a mother and child in the form of Mrs. Mansfield and her infant son. Mr. Mansfield, as you might recall me telling you several years ago, had done me a great service soon after Father died. When his wife wrote that he had been lost at sea, Elizabeth and I retrieved her from London. She and her babe are now settled here at Pemberley with us. Mrs. Mansfield is a quiet woman who devotedly tends her son, James Alexander, whom we affectionately call Jem. The baby? Let me tell you now that I am in doubt as to who the real master of Pemberley is as that handsome young lad rules every minute of our day and night. Yet, we care not. It is a joy to have them here.