A Season Lost

by Sophie Turner

  With this, he gave her a gaze of the deepest love, and took up her hand, kissing her knuckles intensely and repeatedly. “I do wish to see you take over the mistress’s apartment as your own, Elizabeth, but if these are your priorities, they are most honourable priorities, and I wish I had thought of them myself.”

  “I believe you would have, if you had not been so occupied over the state of your own fields,” Elizabeth said, nuzzling up against his shoulder. “Do I have your blessing to begin, then?”

  “Yes, my love, of course you do. Enlist Jasper and the gardeners as you need to, for assistance. I expect there are ample plants from the kitchen garden that would do well in a location in which the climate is better controlled.”

  “Thank you – I shall begin them on it tomorrow, then.”

  “Please do, although I hope you shall have a little time in the midst of your projects to go for a ride with me, so long as the weather holds.”

  “Oh, I have missed our rides,” Elizabeth said. “I will certainly make time to ride out with you.”

  Dawn broke the next morning with a leaden grey sky, but one that seemed inclined to hold its rain for a time. Thus, after the gardeners were directed to begin making over the conservatory for an indoor kitchen garden, Spartan and Kingfisher were saddled, and Mr. and Mrs. Darcy began their ride about the estate.

  Elizabeth, who had been hoping there had been some manner of improvement during their absence, found little to encourage these hopes. The fields looked no better than they had when the Darcys had left – some even appeared worse.

  “We will have to plant oats,” Darcy said, pointing: “That one we may fill in, and have a mixed crop of wheat and oats, but the one beyond will surely have to be ploughed under and begun again, and it is far from the only one.”

  Elizabeth, not knowing what to say, merely gazed at him in sympathy, and they rode on. After some time, they reached what had been one of the wettest of the fields, and still was. Today, however, vibrant leafy greens could be seen growing in little clumps.

  “At least the water-cress thrives,” she said, “which I am glad of, for I intend to have it on our table every evening.”

  “Yes, you did seem to be rather fond of it,” he said, looking over at her with a most sceptical countenance.

  “I am fond of it,” Elizabeth said, clucking Spartan up into a trot, “and when the weather improves, I hope you shall find some way to continue to grow it.”

  They trotted on until they neared the drive to the house, and Mr. Sinclair could be seen approaching them, also on horseback. He bade them good day, they returned his greeting, and as their horses drew nearer, he said: “I was just on my way to call on Mr. Darcy, to welcome your family back to the neighbourhood, but I am glad to catch you both here. We are having a dinner party this evening – my eldest boy is up from town – and we didn’t know you would be back, you see, or we should have invited you at the appropriate time. Mrs. Sinclair was all in a taking that you would feel slighted, and I told her I was sure if I rode over and explained the situation that you would understand. You would be welcome, that is, if you feel sufficiently settled into your home again, and the Bingleys – have they returned?”

  “They have,” said Elizabeth, glancing over at her husband, for he was far more likely to be unenthused by spending a night from home so soon after they had arrived there. He liked the Sinclairs as much as she, however, and his countenance showed no reluctance, so Elizabeth said, “I cannot speak for them, or our cousin, Miss de Bourgh, who has come up with us to visit, but Mr. Darcy and I would be pleased to attend. I should tell you that we have just entered half-mourning for my cousin – he died of scarlet fever.”

  “I am very sorry for your loss and glad you informed me, for I am sure Mrs. Sinclair will want to give her condolences as well. It is to be a quiet dinner party – no harm at all to be there in half-mourning, I am sure. And Miss de Bourgh would be a welcome addition. Mrs. Sinclair and I shall look forward to seeing her again, and I am sure Laurence will be pleased to make her acquaintance.” He smiled, a most genial smile, nodded to them both, and spurred his horse to turn back to Berewick Hall.

  “Oh, I wonder if I should have prompted Anne’s invitation,” Elizabeth said, once he was out of earshot. “She is not formally out in society, is she?”

  “She is not, but at her age, it is her choice if she wishes to come out in society, which she seems to wish to do. She dined at Longbourn and none of us thought anything of it, and the Sinclairs have dined in company before with her at Pemberley,” he said. “Although I suppose now she will have to deal with Laurence Sinclair.”

  “You do not favour Sinclair’s older son?” asked Elizabeth, for she had never met either of Sinclair’s sons, who both resided in town.

  “He is a wastrel,” Darcy said, firmly. “He takes after the first Mrs. Sinclair, unfortunately, although it is still a wonder to me how such a man could have a son so little like him.”

  +++

  Elizabeth had her introduction to Laurence Sinclair before dinner and found herself rapidly forming the same assessment as her husband, as to his worth. She had to suffer very little of his conversation, however, for Anne had chosen to come with them, and it had not been long after Miss de Bourgh had been presented in the drawing-room at Berewick Hall that the report of her being the sole heiress to Rosings Park had circulated.

  Elizabeth did not know who had put forth this intelligence, but it might have been anyone amongst the guests; the Darcys of Pemberley were so well-known in the neighbourhood that their extended family were known as well. Her sympathy, more than it had ever been before, was turned to the victim of this information’s having been spread, poor Anne, who had perhaps more gallantry directed towards her by Mr. Laurence Sinclair than Elizabeth had ever seen any gentleman give to a lady. She bore it well – for Anne, it might have been a novelty for any such attentions to be paid to her – although Elizabeth was of a mind to advise her to be cautious, reminded herself of how easy it was to be blinded by an effective flatterer. Anne was older than Elizabeth had been, of course, but this night must have been far more novel for Anne.

  Elizabeth would not be able to do so until later, though, and when Mr. Sinclair came to offer her his arm to go in, she took it up with good cheer. It had been good to see some of her family – albeit not under the circumstances – but she was glad to be back in Derbyshire. Only in returning to Pemberley had she realised how much these people and this neighbourhood had come to feel like home for her, particularly with her husband escorting Mrs. Sinclair just behind her in the line, and the Bingleys not far behind. Further down the line, she saw Miss Houlton gracefully give up her place to Anne, the two ladies quite a contrast to each other: Anne still thin and pale despite her improved health, and noticeably older; Miss Houlton a picture of spirited youth, pink-cheeked and just out in society.

  They went in, were seated, and awaited the first remove, the exceedingly large first remove. Elizabeth very nearly gaped at such an expanse of food, although she should not have; it was no more than would have been served at Pemberley, for such a number of guests. She had grown used to her own sparing meals at Margate, however, and then Catherine’s table at Longbourn, which had reflected her sister’s efforts to bring more economy to the house at such a time. There was no economy to be had at Berewick, as the second remove came out and proved to be as lavish as the first. Elizabeth endeavoured to apply herself to the food, so that at least less of it should go to waste, but could not refrain from thinking of the poor hungry people she had seen on the side of the road, and entirely lost her appetite.

  +++

  Anne discovered in herself a vanity she had not known she possessed. It was a fleeting, self-aware vanity, but it was vanity nonetheless. She had never been out in society; she had never been flattered by a man such as Mr. Sinclair before, and she quite enjoyed his attentions both before dinner and after. She knew his intentions; she knew what he was after – no man could have found her
more attractive than Miss Houlton, without the lure of Rosings – and yet she still found herself enjoying such attentions.

  At her age, it was pleasant to understand that a man could still consider a flirtation with her – and a handsome man, at that, if too much a dandy. He was all charm towards her, offering to bring her tea and kickshaws, and giving them over to her with rather more gallantry than was necessary. Yes, she understood what he was about, yet she still enjoyed it.

  This ability to think, to reason, to see and understand, was also novel to her. She had spent so many years in a fog of illness and exhaustion that she was only just coming to understand she had wits and could apply them. And she was applying them now to Laurence Sinclair, as he spoke:

  “ – my father does not keep nearly as much game as he ought, you see. ‘Tis hardly worth going out, if there are not a few dozen birds to be bagged. So I must get my visit in here before the shooting season begins, and then I am on to my friend Tom’s. Delightful little shooting box in Leicestershire.”

  “A few dozen birds a day seems like quite a burden at the dinner table, to keep up with eating them.”

  “Oh, well they cannot all be ate by us. He likes to give them to his dogs – cooked on the spit, of course. It would be no good for discipline if they had a notion of what they were eating. But it seems a fair reward, for the work they do.”

  “It is a very substantial reward,” said Anne.

  “Do you keep much game at Rosings?”

  “I cannot say that we do. Just enough for the table.”

  “Ah, well, I suppose you have no-one on the estate who requires the sport. I am sure you could keep more if you desired it, though.”

  “Yes, if I desired it.”

  “Do you go to town often? I cannot recall hearing of you there.”

  “My health has been poor for some years, so I have not often gone, and when I have been there, I was not out in society.”

  “Yes, I see. I am sure I would have heard of such a young lady as you, otherwise. Your talents would not go unnoticed, amongst the ton.”

  Anne very nearly chuckled, for him to speak of her talents, for in truth, she had few, and he had surely not heard of any of them. She was glad when Elizabeth came over to see if she was ready to call for the carriage, for she found herself beginning to sour on his flattery.

  Elizabeth suggested they wait on the steps, given it was not raining. Anne occasionally found her cousin very odd, and this was one such time. Why they should choose to stand out on the damp stone, rather than wait inside as they ought, was illogical to her. Still, Anne followed her, and then she learned Elizabeth had a purpose for singling her out to wait there:

  “Mr. Laurence Sinclair showed you rather a lot of attention, tonight.”

  “Yes, he did, but I am one and thirty years of age,” said Anne. “I understand what my attraction was, to him.”

  “Would you – are you considering him, as a suitor?”

  “Oh, no. It is very nice, to be out in society and have a man show interest in me, but I have only just thrown off one yoke. I have no intention of putting my head into another immediately.”

  “Good, I am glad to hear that. When I was younger, I once listened to a flirtatious man who showed interest in me, and I let his attention blind me to his true character. That is not to say that the right man, a superior man, might not come along and show you interest – perhaps Mr. Sinclair is just the first, now that you are out in society.”

  Anne nodded, but was prevented saying anything more by the emergence of the rest of their party from the house.

  “There you are,” said Fitzwilliam to his wife, and Anne understood in that moment that she did desire the right man – she desired more than merely what she had enjoyed tonight. She wanted a man to look at her the way Fitzwilliam looked at Elizabeth, even if she did not think it likely she should ever be so fortunate as to find such a man.

  +++

  Elizabeth flopped down on her husband’s bed in exhaustion. She had not thought that a ride in the morning and then a dinner party should put her in such a state, but in addition to the lesser fare on the tables before her, she had also grown used to less activity, at Margate and Longbourn. Resolving to walk in the morning, either in the gallery or outdoors depending on the weather, she gazed at her husband.

  “I hope you are not too disappointed over our dining out so soon after returning home,” she said. “I must say how very much I missed our neighbours.”

  “I have missed them, as well – you know well that I prefer to be among people I know, rather than strangers,” he said. “It is not that I was among strangers at Longbourn, of course, or even Rosings, but to have to make plans to bury a man in another county, it was – it was difficult. I was very glad Sir Robert gave his assistance.”

  “What sort of man is he? I wish I had been able to make his acquaintance.”

  “A very good sort of man, I think, based on his actions during such a time. And I presume you will have an opportunity to make his acquaintance in the future, whenever we return to Rosings. I do not see Anne maintaining whatever feud it was Lady Catherine had with him. Perhaps if Anne keeps on as she is, with her health improving, she will find herself mistress of both Avery Hall and Rosings Park.”

  “I am not sure how likely that is.”

  “Please do not tell me she is considering Laurence Sinclair. I was in favour of her dining out with us, but not if she should have a flirtation with the first single gentleman who crosses her path.”

  “She is not – she did enjoy a little flirtation, but who could blame her for that when she has been shut away for most of her life? I spoke to her, on the steps – she understood what he was about and did not take him seriously. She is stronger than I realised, Darcy.”

  “I believe she is gaining strength through her health. The old Anne would have been swooning well before tea was served, not determining to appoint Herbert Ramsey to her living and carrying on a flirtation with Laurence Sinclair. I am pleased for her – I only wish someone had taken her sea-bathing a very long time ago.”

  They lapsed into silence for a few minutes, and then he asked, “Elizabeth, are you well?”

  “I am perfectly well. I have been sitting indoors entirely too much, but that is all. Why do you ask?”

  “You ate very little, during the second remove.”

  “Do you make it a habit to watch how much I eat at dinner?” she asked, perturbed.

  “I do not know that I would call it a habit, but yes, ever since that London season where you grew so thin, I have taken care to watch your appetite. You were not happy then, and I went too long without saying anything. I do not want to do so now. We have been through so much, of late, and if you are unwell, or unhappy, I wish to know of it.”

  Elizabeth’s sentiments rapidly changed from perturbed to loving, and she shifted from her place in the bed so she could kiss him. “I assure you, I am perfectly well and as happy as I can be, in such a season. ‘Tis true, I did lose my appetite, but it was over seeing such an abundance of food when I know there are those who will starve.”

  “Ah, of course,” he said, caressing her cheek. “That did not sit well with me, either.”

  “I know it is as we have always done, and I know why we do it, but I do not think I can host my own dinner parties with such an array of dishes. Not in this season. And yet I know we shall have to.”

  “Do we truly have to?” he asked. “Pemberley sets the tone for this neighbourhood. If we choose to serve less at dinner, I believe the others will follow.”

  “Would you consider doing that? Would you be comfortable doing such a thing? Because it sounds so very right, to me.”

  “I would, and perhaps soon enough we shall have vegetables from our own conservatory to serve, in addition to your water-cress sallad.”

  “Oh! I must speak with Mrs. Reynolds about sending someone to Smith’s farm, to procure some for dinner tomorrow.”

  “You need not do that.
Well – perhaps you should. I asked her that it be on the sideboard at breakfast, but perhaps you will require more for dinner.”

  Elizabeth had been married to this man for more than two years, now, and yet he was still capable of surprising her. That he should have observed her at dinner and worried so over her that he wished to see the one dish she had shown any enthusiasm over served at breakfast, that he was willing to forgo Pemberley’s appropriate display of wealth at dinner, touched her heart completely. She kissed him more deeply this time, told him she loved him, and was entirely the provocateur of a very pleasing round of marital relations.

  Chapter 38

  Elizabeth had attempted to conduct the first of the interviews with her servants, but had quickly discovered that being summoned to an interview with the lady of the house was cause for distress, not relief, for the lower servants. Dismissing a petrified scullery maid from her presence, she had called in Mr. Richardson, Mrs. Reynolds, Mr. Parker, and Mr. Marshall, who managed the stables, and requested they instead conduct the interviews with those servants who worked for them. This left Elizabeth with only Sarah and Mrs. Nichols; Sarah’s situation she knew of, and so she merely asked her maid to continue to inform her mistress of how the weather continued on, in Ireland. Mrs. Nichols had a brother, who as last she knew still had his job in a manufactory in Manchester; the vagueness of her words, and her tone in saying it, indicated to Elizabeth that there was no familial closeness between the siblings, so she did not press any further.

  The reports back from the others were generally as might be expected. Those with families who were tenants of the Darcys were far less worried, having already seen the efforts to which Darcy had gone to assist them, and knowing the Darcys had always been lenient on the terms of their leases in difficult years. There were some others with families farther afield who had not this same reassurance, and they were given the promise of interest-free loans, if needed. This was to supplement the bonus of five pounds Elizabeth and Darcy had agreed they should give to each of the servants, and it said much about the diligence of Pemberley’s workforce that not one of them immediately took this windfall to Green’s, to be spent.