by Jann Rowland
“Come now, Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam with that insouciant grin which told Darcy he was about to make sport with him, “your marrying is the easiest thing in the world. All you need to do is stop running and allow Miss Bingley to catch you.”
“As I said, if I choose correctly.” There was no point trying to admonish Fitzwilliam or respond in a like fashion, as it would only spur him on. “As you know, Georgiana dislikes Miss Bingley almost as much as I do.”
“Clever girl,” murmured Fitzwilliam while taking a sip of this drink.
Darcy flashed his cousin a quick grin and turned his attention back to his own drink. “But you are right in essentials. This marriage business is the easiest thing in the world. Choose a woman of good dowry and impeccable connections and marry her.”
“And then spend the rest of your life miserable,” snorted Fitzwilliam.
“That does seem to be the problem.”
Darcy was silent for several moments, thinking about the situation. It was not as if he had never had any interest in a woman. Unfortunately, his interest usually did not survive a little time in the woman’s company, and the revelation that she was dull and unintelligent, interested in nothing more than fashion gazettes and the latest additions to her wardrobe or was an unrelenting shrew, clever and hard—or as Fitzwilliam had declared, the kind of woman who would make the rest of his life miserable. There simply did not seem to be much in between the two extremes.
“What of you?” asked Darcy, turning his attention back to his cousin. “You are two years older than I, and yet you remain unmarried yourself. Now that you are naught but ‘Mr. Fitzwilliam,’ should you not be looking for a wife yourself?”
Fitzwilliam sighed and set his glass down, rested his chin on his hand and stared into the fire. “I am in the same position as you, though there are some differences, as you know. I am both higher in society, being the son of an earl, and less in consequence, not being the heir. Father is interested in alliances and would marry me off to an earl’s daughter without a second thought. But most earl’s daughters have no desire to live on a small estate in the hinterlands of the kingdom.”
“Thorndell is a good estate, Fitzwilliam. There is nothing wrong with it.”
“No, there is not,” replied his cousin. “I dare say I shall be quite comfortable there, though my income will not be a vast sum. But it is not Chatsworth either, and most young ladies of a certain level of society have been reared to expect Chatsworth rather than Thorndell.”
It was nothing more than the truth, and Darcy conceded the point with a nod.
“Besides,” said Fitzwilliam, his eyes staring into the fire such that he appeared mesmerized with the snap and hiss of the logs and the merrily dancing flames, “I wish for something more from marriage. It is more important to me to have a wife who is compatible with me than to have great riches.”
“And what of love?”
Fitzwilliam turned a wry smile on Darcy. “Love is, indeed, a valuable commodity. However, I believe I will settle for compatibility if necessary. Love would be akin to the cream on top of the strawberries.”
“True,” replied Darcy. “And very well spoken. You know I wish you the best of luck.”
“And I, you.” Fitzwilliam turned back to Darcy and grinned, the serious moment seemingly forgotten. “Perhaps we shall have the very great fortune to find two sisters who will suit us. We have always called each other cousin, but perhaps a change to ‘brother’ would be welcome.”
“You know I would never disagree with that,” replied Darcy.
They stayed in the study speaking for some time before they sought their beds. Though the subject was not broached between them again, Darcy thought of the matter on several occasions. And he knew that Fitzwilliam thought about it as well, for there was some truth to the maxim of a man in possession of an estate being in want of a wife. Darcy certainly was himself. He simply had no idea where he should look for one.
Chapter III
The journey to Derbyshire was accomplished over the space of more than two days. Elizabeth had never journeyed north of Longbourn or further than Stevenage, so she spent much of her time looking out through the window at the passing scenery, noting the rolling hills, fields, and forests of central England with interest. At the beginning of her travels, she did not note much difference between what she was seeing and the beloved scenes of her home.
As they continued toward the north, however, she began to notice gradual changes in the land. It was, for the most part, tamed, as much of England was. The fields showed recent signs of planting, and those which were left to such crops as clover were showing the brilliant green she so loved. But though the changes were subtle, she noticed the rolling hills gradually grew more rugged and the land, less tame, and the appearance of rocky outcroppings and wilder forests grew more common.
“It almost seems like a different country,” murmured Elizabeth late on the second day. They had passed through two counties already and were on their way through a third before they would finally reach Derbyshire on the morrow.
Her father, who had been engrossed in his book, looked up and said: “You were not unaware of the changes in the terrain. I have found you poring over my atlases many times.”
“I did know it, Papa. But knowing and seeing are quite different, you must acknowledge. I have not been north of Hertfordshire before.”
“That is true.”
Elizabeth was grateful for her father’s presence. Mr. Bennet’s aversion to travel was something of a legend in the family, and Elizabeth had thought he might be content to send her in the Bennet carriage with a maid for company. Instead, he had declared his intention to see her to his sister’s house himself.
“The land gradually continues to become more rugged the further north we go. Your Uncle Drummond, for example, lives not far from the Peak District, and you will be able to see some of the peaks in the distance from his house on a clear day. But for the truly rough country, you would have to travel to Scotland, land of the mountains, valleys, and lochs.”
“Have you ever been there?” asked Elizabeth, curious about his response. Her parents did not often speak of their personal history, likely, Elizabeth thought, because their marriage was not the happiest.
“I have,” replied Mr. Bennet. “In fact, your mother and I spent our wedding trip in the north.” He paused and seemed to further consider the matter before he changed the subject. “But Derbyshire is a lovely county.”
“Or so Aunt Gardiner always waxes eloquent.”
Father and daughter laughed together. “Yes, Mrs. Gardiner’s affinity for Lambton is well known. You will be staying not far from that town, so you will be able to judge for yourself.”
Nodding, Elizabeth turned her attention back to the window. She wondered at the reason for her father’s reticence on the subject. She was certain he had been about to say more before he decided differently, but what it was, she could not guess.
“Lizzy,” said Mr. Bennet, “I wish for you to enjoy yourself in Derbyshire.”
“I believe I shall, Papa. I imagine there will be society aplenty, given Mr. Drummond’s reason for inviting me.”
Mr. Bennet nodded, but his countenance remained stern. “You were quite young the last time we met the Drummonds so you will likely not remember much. Your uncle is an amiable man, and I believe you will like him a great deal. But my sister . . . Let us just say that Claire’s life has not turned out the way she might have expected, and she has become quite bitter as a result.”
Frowning, Elizabeth looked at her father askance. “Do you refer to some specific event?”
“I believe it is best not to be explicit,” said Mr. Bennet after a pause. “If my . . . if my sister decides to tell you, then that is her prerogative, but I believe I shall be silent on the matter. What I wished to say is that you should not allow her to disparage you or make condescending remarks about you.”
“She would do
that?” asked Elizabeth with wide eyes.
Mr. Bennet shook his head. “Not so openly, I should think. Her opinions—brought about by her disappointments in life—are not precisely hidden. Though I have not seen her in many years, when last I was in her company, she was openly critical of gentle-born ladies in general, especially those who are not aware of their privilege.”
“But that is nonsensical, Papa! She is gently-born herself.”
“I am aware of that.” Mr. Bennet paused for a moment, seeming to consider his words. “Bitterness can do that to a person. Sometimes the change in fortunes can cause a person to become unreasonable, where their opinions take such a radical shift as to be ridiculous. Your aunt has had a harder life than she would have expected as the daughter of a gentleman, as the size of her husband’s estate has meant that she is quite low in society. I know that you are well able to fend for yourself, and Drummond has pledged to protect you. It is for his daughter’s benefit that you go, after all. But you may expect cutting comments at the very least from your aunt.
“I receive those at home,” replied Elizabeth. “I doubt a little vitriol will cause me to dissolve into tears.”
“No, but then again, your aunt possesses more intelligence than your mother, which may make her more difficult to endure. You will be required to help with their chores, I would imagine, though Drummond will likely wish you to be primarily concerned with his daughter’s education.”
“Then I shall do what is necessary to promote harmony with her.” Elizabeth paused and directed a serious look at her father. “I shall be well, Papa. There is no need to worry.”
“Excellent! Now, I will also leave a certain stipend with your uncle, in case there is anything you should require, as well as an amount of money which will assist them in feeding another mouth. It is possible Drummond may attempt to refuse it, but I shall leave it with him all the same. That money will be available to you too.”
“I brought everything I require, Papa.”
The fondness in Mr. Bennet’s gaze made Elizabeth feel warm all over. “I know you have. But there may be some occasion for you to purchase finer clothes than you now possess, as there are several wealthy families in the neighborhood. The money will also allow Olivia to make some purchases, if required.”
Knowing her father would not give way, and understanding that he was likely right, Elizabeth thanked him and returned her attention to the passing scenery. They stopped soon after and took their rooms at the inn her father had chosen before starting once again early the following morning.
It was early afternoon on the third day when her uncle’s house came into view. They had passed beyond a small strand of trees swaying gently in the breeze when they came over a low hill to see the manor house standing not far distant before them. It was, to Elizabeth’s surprise, quite large—larger than her father’s house, though smaller than Netherfield. It was built of stone and featured a large portico which sheltered the front door from the elements, with ivy running up the side of one wall. The driveway through which they drove was packed gravel and appeared well maintained, and the park in which the house was built was neat and clean. Had Elizabeth not had her father’s words on the matter, she would have thought the estate was large and prosperous.
When the carriage rolled to a stop in front of the portico, Elizabeth saw the family emerge from the door. The carriage door was opened, Mr. Bennet stepped out and helped Elizabeth down, and then they turned and greeted the family.
“Bennet,” said a tall man, stepping forward to grasp her father’s hand. He was strong and lean, possessing a full head of dark, wavy hair greying a little at the temples. “Welcome to Kingsdown.”
As her father greeted his brother-in-law, Elizabeth happened to be looking at her aunt, and the woman’s look at her husband was no less than a sneer, though Elizabeth could not quite determine what prompted it. Startled at such an indecorous display, Elizabeth stared at her for a moment, until her aunt realized it and returned it. A look passed between them, and Elizabeth felt a hint of challenge from the other woman. There would undoubtedly be arguments between them in the future.
“This is Elizabeth,” said Mr. Bennet, drawing Elizabeth’s attention back to the two men, who had completed their greetings and were now proceeding to the introductions.
Mr. Drummond stepped forward and grasped Elizabeth’s shoulders, regarding her with a wide grin. “Little Lizzy. When I last saw you, you were a little sprite, in braids and a little green dress. I see you have grown into a beautiful young woman.”
“Thank you, Uncle,” said Elizabeth. “I am very happy to see you.”
Turning, Mr. Drummond motioned to his family. “You may not remember her, but you have met your aunt, Claire. You also met Edward, my eldest son. The rest of Edward’s siblings are Olivia, Thomas, David, and Leah.”
Elizabeth curtseyed and greeted her cousins. Olivia was a girl of about Kitty’s age, tall and pretty with long dark hair. Her younger brothers appeared to be between ten and thirteen years old, and appeared as most young boys were—mischievous and active. The younger girl was a little darling, her cherub face peaking up at Elizabeth from behind her elder sister’s skirts.
“Well now, we should enter the house,” said Mrs. Drummond, her words short and her manner abrupt. “There is little sense in standing out of doors.”
So saying, the woman turned and began to make her way into the house. Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth witnessed her father and uncle sharing a shaken head, and she wondered about it. What would Mrs. Drummond say if she knew that Elizabeth’s favorite pastime was walking country paths, drinking in the scents and sounds of the serenity of nature? At that moment, Elizabeth’s two young cousins approached her, and she turned her attention away from her aunt.
“Elizabeth,” said Olivia, as she curtseyed shyly. “Leah and I are happy to make your acquaintance.” Leah, still clutching her sister’s skirts, stared at Elizabeth, and she was not certain the girl was at all happy to see her.
Smiling, hoping to put her cousins at ease, Elizabeth replied: “And I am happy to make yours. You have a lovely home. I cannot wait to begin to explore the paths I am certain you have in abundance.”
“Mama does not approve of our walking,” blurted Leah. Then she blushed and hid behind her sister.
Elizabeth smiled and crouched down, catching Leah’s eye when she dared to once again look at Elizabeth. “Perhaps I may show you the joys of nature, then. I am quite familiar with the paths around my father’s estate, and the prospect of new places to explore has me quite breathless with anticipation.”
The girl attempted a half smile, but soon her eyes darted up to her sister. Olivia, for her part, appeared bemused by the exchange. She reached down and took her sister into her arms, lifting her up and settling the girl on her hip. Leah, still shy, attempted to bury her head in her sister’s shoulder, but Olivia coaxed her from hiding her face, instead encouraging her to face Elizabeth, though she appeared ready to hide again at any moment.
“She is right, though,” said Olivia. “There is much to do on the farm, and if we spend all our time walking, I am certain Mama will be upset with us.”
“Of course, I would never suggest that we neglect the tasks which must be completed,” replied Elizabeth with a sage nod. “But surely there must be some time for leisure. As I understand, I am here to assist you as you begin to move in society, for you are almost of age to come out. Your father must have other activities in mind than simply working on the farm.”
For a moment, Elizabeth thought Olivia might say something in response, but she decided not to. Instead, she turned and led Elizabeth into the house where her pelisse was divested and hung neatly in a closet, and the two girls showed her to her room. It was similar to her room in Longbourn, with a bed along the far wall, a small vanity on the other side, and a corner closet for her clothes.
“There is wash water in the basin,” said Olivia, pointing to a
large bowl on a small table sat beside the bed.
“Thank you,” said Elizabeth. “I will refresh myself and be down directly.”
With a nod, the other girl left, taking her sister. Elizabeth sighed and began to divest her clothes for something fresh. Inside, she was already wondering if it had been a good decision to come here.
When Elizabeth made her way down to the sitting-room before dinner, it was there that she noticed for the first time that the estate was not so prosperous as the outside might suggest. The sitting-room was large—larger than her mother’s room at Longbourn. But it was also not in the latest fashion, the furniture showing signs of wear, and the wallpaper peeling in places, though she could see evidence of repairs having been completed at times in the past.
Elizabeth took a seat close to where Olivia sat with Leah by her side, and she turned, noting that her aunt was scrutinizing her. Mrs. Drummond appeared to possess more than a hint of sardonic amusement, and though Elizabeth wondered what the woman was about, she only nodded and attended her father’s conversation with her uncle.
“Do you plan to stay with us long?” her uncle was asking her father.
“Perhaps a week,” replied Mr. Bennet. “I will need to stay long enough to rest the horses, but I cannot be away for long. My youngest are likely to cause untold havoc if I did.”
“Papa!” admonished Elizabeth. But her father just grinned.
“Are all your daughters that . . . high-spirited, Henry?” drawled Aunt Claire.
“Only my youngest,” replied Mr. Bennet, unaffected by his sister’s ironic tone. “My Lizzy is a lady through and through, though I will own that she tends toward playful manners.”
“Excellent!” said Mr. Drummond, shooting a quelling glance at his wife. “I am certain the girls will get on famously.”
“What can you tell me of society in this area, Uncle?” asked Elizabeth.
A shrug was Mr. Drummond’s response. “I am certain it is much like that to which you are accustomed in Meryton. There are young girls and young men aplenty, vying for one another’s attention, dancing the complex courtship rituals, not to mention men with their interest in estate matters, shooting, fishing and matrons with nothing in their heads but gossip.”