She glanced at Darcy. He smiled and discreetly stroked her arm where the rest could not see.
“That is certainly true. But you are under no obligation, Anne. The choice must be yours alone. You know what is best.”
“No one will pressure you,” said Richard.
Anne was silent for a few moments as she pondered all she had heard. Finally, she sighed.
“Tell her she may come to London, but she must stay at her own house,” she said. “Until she has proven I can trust her not to interfere again. I worry that a wedding might bring out the worst in her.” She shook her head. “I cannot believe she tried to force us into such a situation, Darcy. It is astonishing that she should stoop to such levels to get what she wants. How dreadful it would have been if she had succeeded. Can you imagine how different our lives would be right now? You and I forced to plan a wedding with one another, knowing it was not what either of us wanted?” She shuddered and nestled closer to her future husband.
Darcy looked down at Elizabeth and smiled. “I was furious when I first learned what she had done, but after thinking it over, I find I cannot be too hard on her,” he said. “If it were not for her schemes, we might never be where we are now. Who is to say it would all have come about as it did? I have it on good authority this lady would have declined if I’d proposed to her before.”
“I might have done,” agreed Elizabeth. “But if I had grown to know you better, I would have soon come to regret it. I hope we would have come together in some other manner.”
“I’m sure you are right,” said Darcy. And, as the rest of the party were distracted by discussing the upcoming weddings, he kissed her once again.
Chapter 38
Elizabeth Darcy looked out the carriage window with a smile as the magnificent house came into view.
“Almost here. At last. I have been so impatient to see the magnificent chimney pieces. I have been in a flurry of anxiety to behold them again. They cost eight hundred pounds you know!”
Darcy laughed. “Ten years of visits to Rosings Park have not lessened your enthusiasm for them? Mr Collins will be so proud.”
“I daresay he will. He is more devoted to them than ever since your aunt died. When he and Charlotte join us for dinner tonight, he will sigh over them and inform us all of the cost at least once an hour. I should think young Fred and Beatrice Collins have shrines to Lady Catherine in their bedchambers.”
Elizabeth stopped talking as their eldest child, William, stirred from his sleep. She never failed to marvel how their three children managed to doze through endless miles of bumpy roads. And they always managed to wake just as they approached their destination.
“What time will Aunt Jane and Uncle Charles arrive, Mama?” he asked, rubbing his sleepy eyes. Elizabeth could never look at him without smiling. He was a perfect miniature of his father, complete with aloof manner when gatherings proved too much for him. He was eager to see his cousins now, but he would soon grow tired and wander off in search of a book. No wonder he was Grandfather Bennet’s favourite grandchild.
“About six o’clock,” said Elizabeth, pushing his dark curls back from his face. “You will have plenty of time to play before bed.”
“And are you sure they are bringing Cousin George?”
Elizabeth and Darcy’s eyes met over their son’s head.
“They won’t go anywhere without George, Will,” said Darcy. “You know that.”
His voice was soft. Though he and Elizabeth had taken a grim pleasure in the marriage of Caroline Bingley and George Wickham all those years ago, there was one aspect of it they could not dwell on with any satisfaction. The Wickhams were quite welcome to make one another miserable if they chose, and Elizabeth and Darcy were more than happy to know two other people had not been dragged into their misery by becoming their spouses.
But there was one casualty of their marriage that the Darcys had not considered. Little George Wickham. The eight year old boy was mercifully the Wickhams only child. Once the couple had been married for five years, they went their separate ways and saw one another rarely.
They also made little time for their son. Caroline Wickham spent most of her time in Scarborough where she spent her days lamenting her great ill-usage in not having a husband worthy of her, while George Wickham spent his nights in the gaming halls and brothels of Southwark. Little George Wickham was all but forgotten by his parents, and would have languished away in school if his Aunt and Uncle Bingley did not insist on taking him into their home as often as they could so he might be raised with their children. The little boy had inherited none of his parents’ spiteful tendencies and instead appeared to have been modelled on his cheerful, sweet-natured uncle. He was a great favourite with his Darcy cousins and Elizabeth and Darcy doted on him almost as much as the Bingleys did. It would be good to see him again.
Little Robert and Georgiana Darcy woke up just as the carriage started down the long drive towards Rosings Park. Anne and Richard Fitzwilliam appeared on the steps to meet them, surrounded by their three excitable little girls who had waited for months for their summer reunion with their cousins.
The families greeted one another with a flurry of hugs and kisses. Children were scooped into the loving arms of aunts and uncles who exclaimed over how big they had grown and bickered about which family member they most resembled. William and Robert were already charging across the lawn followed by little Abigail and Catherine Fitzwilliam. Five year old Georgiana and six year old Amelia had already run into the house to admire Amelia’s new rocking horse.
“It is so good to have you all here,” said Anne as she linked Elizabeth’s arms to walk into the house. “The children have talked of nothing else for months. Charlotte will join us later with her family. Come into the drawing room. We have refreshments prepared. You must be tired after your long journey.”
“Not as tired as we should be,” said Elizabeth. “I have looked forward to visiting almost as much as the children. It always seems so long when we are waiting to visit, yet once we are here, it is as if we have never been away.”
They settled in the drawing room for tea. The children had heard rumours of cakes and came charging in. Anne looked at them with a smile.
“I wonder what my mother would have made of so many children flying about Rosings reenacting the Battle of Waterloo?” she said wistfully.
Elizabeth looked at the enormous portrait of Lady Catherine de Bourgh taking pride of place above Mr Collins’s beloved chimney piece. She smiled. Even though the lady had been gone for five years, she still managed to make her presence felt.
The reunion with Anne all those years ago had been challenging. Despite Lady Catherine’s promises to not interfere in her daughter’s life to the extent she had before, old habits died hard. Fortunately, Anne’s new assertiveness, combined with the support of her husband, meant that Lady Catherine had no choice but to accept her daughter’s right to make her own decisions, even if she did not always manage to do so with good grace. Eventually, they were able to make enough peace that they all lived together in relative harmony until the lady’s death.
“I am sure she would have loved it. She did improve in some ways once you were married, and she certainly doted on her grandchildren.”
Anne smiled and agreed. After they spoke for some time, Elizabeth looked up to see Darcy staring at her just as he had done all those years ago. She arched an eyebrow and spoke low so only he could hear.
“Does something about my appearance displease you, sir? Only I can’t help notice you are in the habit of looking at me a great deal.”
Darcy smiled. “I was just thinking how ardently I admire and love you, Mrs Darcy.” He held out a hand to her and pulled her to her feet. “I have also been thinking it is time for our walk.”
Anne and Richard exchanged knowing looks and called to the Darcy children so they would not try to follow their parents.
Just outside the drawing room door, Darcy paused.
“Here
is where I proposed to you.”
“The second time,” said Elizabeth with a soft smile. “We will soon pass the bench where you made your first very unromantic offer of marriage.”
They strolled outside hand in hand, admiring the soft summer evening. The sun was sinking in the sky, and it lit up the Kent countryside in gold. They walked along the familiar path to their little glade where the cottage still stood. The door had a proper lock on it now but Darcy had the key.
They stepped inside and looked around the dark little space. It was exactly as it had been the night they were forced together. Richard and Anne had offered to improve it for them but apart from some maintenance, Elizabeth and Darcy asked them to leave it exactly as it had been.
“We should bring the children here during our stay,” said Elizabeth. “William and Robert will plague us with questions about where we go and why we do not allow them to come with us.”
Darcy had been leaning against the wall, looking about the room with a fond smile, and he came towards Elizabeth to wrap his arms around her from behind. He rested his chin on her shoulder.
“We will. But not just yet. For now, this place remains ours.”
Keeping his arms around her, he gently manoeuvred her around to one of the still boarded windows. Elizabeth smiled as she saw it. In the wooden planks, their names were carved: First Fitzwilliam Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet and the date of Darcy’s second proposal to her. Afterwards, it showed the names Fitzwilliam Darcy and Elizabeth Darcy followed by a date not long after their marriage. Other carvings of their names showed, one for each year they came to the little house that would always be special to both of them.
“To think, we might have had such terrible associations with this place,” said Elizabeth, resting her head against Darcy’s with a sigh. “It might have been somewhere I shuddered to see for the rest of my life.”
Darcy kissed her temple.
“And now?”
“And now it seems like the dearest place in all the world, besides Pemberley,” she smiled. “Such a humble little cottage, yet it means everything. The life we have, the joy we have known over the years — all the memories we share, and the lives of our three children all began in this unassuming, abandoned house in the woods.”
She turned in Darcy’s arms to wrap her own around his neck. He kissed her and she leaned against him, her heart pounded as rapidly as it had that first time almost a decade ago.
“Do you realise it is ten years to the day that we were locked here?” she asked when he finally released her.
“Of course I do,” said Darcy. “I never forget it. That day brought us from perfect misery to perfect happiness. You know, I always meant to thank Mr Collins for his interruption of my earlier attempt to propose. If I had succeeded then, you would have spurned me like the cold-hearted wretch you are, and we might never have come together afterwards.”
He laughed as Elizabeth gently hit his shoulder in mock outrage. He pulled her to him and kissed her again when they were interrupted by a voice outside.
“Ah, this path reminds me of so many other times when we walked along this way, having been honoured by an invitation by our gracious patroness. I can never walk it without thinking with great sadness of that benevolent lady, and of her great generosity and goodness towards me and my dear family.”
“Then you must feel sad a great deal, my dear, for we walk this way to dine at Rosings at least three times a week,” came the dry response.
“Ah, my poor Lady Catherine. The world will never recover from such a loss…oh, my dear Charlotte. Look over there! The door is open. Someone is visiting that little cottage. I wonder who it might be?”
“William, come back. You know who is in there. They always visit and they like to be alone…”
Darcy sighed and rested his forehead against Elizabeth’s.
“The man has a talent for interruption,” he said as Elizabeth laughed. He kissed her swiftly before reluctantly releasing her. “Next time, it will be us who lock that door.”
About the Author
Emily Russell lives in Ireland with her family. When she isn't writing historical fiction, she loves studying social history, especially that of the eighteenth-century. She also enjoys rambling about the countryside and getting lost, which explains why Elizabeth Bennet is one of her favourite characters.
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Trapped at Rosings Page 25