“Yes,” said Anne, “We shall go there for a few months, perhaps with a little stop in town. When the weather is hopefully better, we shall go to the seaside, for a honeymoon. I have a fondness for Margate, so it will likely be there.”
“Of course,” said Elizabeth. It might be the first test of the marriage, she thought, to go out into society in that town, although those who would judge them most severely would be in London at that time of year. And if the couple did go by the name of Smith, they might pass the time there in privacy as well, unremarked by those who did not realise that Anne Smith had once been Anne de Bourgh of Rosings Park. Then Elizabeth determined she could not speculate over their name any longer, and gave in to her curiosity, asking,
“What – what name do you intend to take? Or have you decided?”
“We have,” said Anne. “I have never been very happy as Anne de Bourgh. I think I shall be far happier as Anne Smith.”
Elizabeth indicated her understanding, and then invited Mr. Smith to stay to dinner with them, which was agreed to readily. When Anne suggested he might wish to pass the intervening time with a book from Pemberley’s library, and expressed intent to escort him thither, Elizabeth was surprised to find herself applied to as a chaperone. It was proper, she supposed, but the idea of chaperoning two persons notably older than herself – including a man who had taken weeks to come around to agreeing to marriage – seemed preposterous, and she contented herself with reading her own book near the door and entirely ignoring those two who perused the poetry.
When they all returned to the saloon, she found Darcy surrounded with the pages of a letter, and exceedingly happy. “From Georgiana!” he exclaimed. “They have just arrived. Yours is on the table over there.”
Elizabeth was equally happy over the letters, although as she had not been so worried as him, she could not be so relieved as him, when she took hers up. It was many pages in length and looked to have been written over the course of many days, then finally sent from Cape Town. If the letter was sent from there, Elizabeth wondered where Georgiana was at present. She did not share such wonderings, however, and they all read quietly and happily until dinner, the Darcys at their letters, and Anne and Smith at their books of poetry.
They were a happy party at dinner, as well, and Elizabeth had thought nothing could dampen her spirits until she saw Sarah enter her dressing-room. That something was wrong was readily apparent, but Sarah would never speak of it unless asked particularly, and so Elizabeth did so.
“Sarah, whatever is the matter? Did you have any letters from your sister, in the packet that came today?”
“I did, ma’am, and she seems – not herself. Not so high-spirited as she usually is, if you understand my meaning.”
“I do,” said Elizabeth, who had come to understand how very dissimilar the two sisters were during Moll Kelly’s time at Pemberley, although she said no more, to avoid embarrassing Sarah.
“I guess maybe she’s just comin’ to understand what it means, to have to be reliable,” said Sarah.
Elizabeth hoped for Georgiana’s sake that it had not taken until Cape Town for her maid to understand what it meant to be reliable, but said only, “I think that is not the extent of your troubles, Sarah.”
Sarah sighed, and shook her head. “Nay, ma’am. I had a letter from my brother that came today, too, and things are bad, there. The weather sounds even worse, than ‘tis here. I wish I could do more, but there’s naught I can do but send more money.”
“At least you can do that,” said Elizabeth encouragingly, as a glimmer of an idea formed in her mind. It was not yet an idea that could be shared with Sarah, however.
“Very true ma’am,” said Sarah, seeming a little reassured.
They spoke little more as Elizabeth changed for bed, resolved that if her idea could not be borne to fruition, she would at least give Sarah enough in her Christmas box to alleviate her worries for some time. When Elizabeth was attired in her nightgown and dressing gown, she went through to her husband’s apartments, finding him re-reading his letter, which he carefully folded and placed on the bedside table as his wife joined him.
He gave her a very thorough kiss. “You, my darling wife, were right to insist on optimism. How happy I am today!”
Elizabeth regarded him curiously, not sure how much of his happiness was due to Georgiana’s letters and how much to the announced betrothal or lingering pleasure over the development of their sons. She did not question him, however, and merely said,
“I hope you shall remember this in the future, when next I speak of optimism.”
He chuckled and drew her closer. “I thought I had already made clear how very much I value your advice. I believe the real question is whether there is anything I may do to reward you for it. I must stop at Hadley’s the next time I am in town, I think.”
“I suppose you have forgotten the very fine mare you arrived with not so long ago,” said Elizabeth. “I assure you, I have not, for Flora continues to be my every delight – although there is something I wanted to ask of you.”
“Of course, ask it, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.”
“Do you have any candidates for the tenancy of Smith’s farm?”
“Not as yet. I have some thoughts, but nothing beyond that.”
“I am glad, for I have candidates for you – Kelly’s family. I would be very relieved to get them out of Ireland and establish them here, where we may look after them as our own.”
Darcy inhaled and then exhaled sharply. “That, I fear, I cannot agree to – ”
“Whyever not? I know we have not met them, but Sarah Kelly has served us so faithfully, and Moll Kelly, too, I suppose – in a way – and if ever there was a family that ought to be brought under our protection – ”
“Elizabeth,” he laid his hand on her chest. “Elizabeth, pray let me explain myself. Smith’s farm is twelve hundred acres. How large is the Kelly family farm?”
Elizabeth, abashed, admitted that she had no idea.
“Nor I, but I cannot think it above two or three hundred. I should be happy to let them attempt something slightly larger, but I cannot afford to have a tenant take over Smith’s farm entire without knowing he is ready for such a responsibility. It would significantly impact our income to do so, and we can ill afford it after such a season. I know we are better off than most, and I should never wish to be thought a cruel landlord, but when the estate does not perform to its best in a given season – even if that season is horrible – that is money we are not saving up for George and any future children, or giving to aid those dependent upon us.”
Elizabeth, chastened, was rapidly coming to regret proposing something she had not thought through so well as she now realised she should have. She did still wish to help Sarah’s family, but understood the impossibility of her proposed solution. Darcy, perhaps, understood her remorse, for he pulled her closer and said,
“This does not mean that I do not wish to help them. Kelly served my family well even before she became your maid, and I am not unconscious of how indispensable she has become to you. I would like to help her family. So I will say that while they should not take over Smith’s farm entire, I am not sure anyone should take over Smith’s farm entire. I think there is likely to be a great deal of shuffling amongst my current tenants, and everyone should gain some acres, and I should add on a tenant or two, or even three. So I will promise you that one of those tenants will be the Kellys, and I will pay for their passage from Ireland, for if I do not, I can only presume it will be paid out of your pin money.”
Elizabeth received this statement with much pleasure, and kissed her way up his neck and across his chin, eventually arriving at the corner of his mouth. At this point, he turned his head to kiss her very thoroughly, then said, “I must admit, I thought your request would have to do with Christmas. I had been thinking, even before we were to have a wedding just before that event, that it would be nice to have a lot of family about. I hope we might invite
your sisters, and the Gardiners of course, and – your parents – and – and the Philipses. I hope we will have most, if not all, of the Fitzwilliams here for Anne’s nuptials. Whether Lady Catherine is invited will, of course, be at Anne’s discretion.”
Elizabeth was touched that he should wish to include her entire family in the invitation, even as she blushed to think of what it would mean. Her aunt and uncle Gardiner she would vouch for amongst any company, and indeed, they were already acquainted and got on well with Lord and Lady Brandon. The Philipses, however, were another matter, although she supposed that if the party was large enough, her gossiping aunt might be kept from anyone who would greatly dislike such behaviour. Thus, she agreed that the invitations for Christmas might be made and said she would write them out the next day, coordinating with Anne for those that overlapped with the wedding.
Chapter 20
Although Lady Catherine was never informed of the misalliance her daughter was about to form, the Fitzwilliams, in their entirety, showed themselves at Pemberley in time for the wedding. Andrew Fitzwilliam appeared to have been dragged there amidst the fog of his continued grief, while Edward and a voluptuously pregnant Marguerite Fitzwilliam appeared as that sort of couple who were so happy to be married they thought it brilliant that any other couple should pair off and make a go of it.
It was left to Lord and Lady Brandon to bestow a more critical eye upon the match, and this they did on the day following their arrival. During breakfast, the earl asked Anne when she expected her betrothed to call, and upon being informed of the hour, told Anne that Mr. Smith should be brought up to the state drawing-room when he arrived. Anne looked so petrified on Mr. Smith’s behalf, regarding this request, that Lord Brandon was required to say, “Do not look so distressed, Anne. If your aunt and I objected to the match, we would not have come. But I do wish to take the measure of your Mr. Smith. I’ll not speak against him regardless, but I would like to find him worth speaking for.”
Anne nodded, a little reassured, and was still more reassured when Elizabeth left the winter breakfast-room with her and whispered that Mr. Smith was not one to be cowed by nobility; he had conversed with Lord Anglesey for better than half-an-hour during one dinner party at Pemberley. Still, it was one thing to converse with an earl, and yet another to face one who was his betrothed’s uncle, and Mr. Smith regarded Anne with the same degree of nervousness she felt, when he arrived and was told by her that they should go up to meet the man who would become his uncle.
Lord and Lady Brandon were seated within the state drawing-room; Anne might have hoped for Edward or even Andrew to be present, to make it seem as though it was going to be a more familial conversation. Yet in truth nothing could seem a familial conversation in such a space – it was Robert Adam at his finest, more formed for beauty than for grandeur, although it achieved the latter as well; even Anne, who had grown up at Rosings, had always felt there was something singular about these rooms, and she wished their purpose here could have been to enjoy them, rather than have poor Mr. Smith’s measure taken.
The earl and countess were seated on the sofas before the fireplace, and Anne and her betrothed managed to join them without too much gawping. Anne introduced them all, and then the foursome were seated.
“I told them to send up tea and coffee when you came up,” said Lady Ellen, motioning toward a cabinet of delicate marquetry, “but if you should prefer something else, I believe there are port and brandy within there.”
“Thank you, my lady, I would be very happy with tea.”
Aunt Ellen nodded, but it was her husband who spoke. “There is no way to do this without it seeming an interrogation, I fear. As I told my niece already, if we objected to the match, we would not be here. Yet unlike many Miss de Bourgh could have married, you are unknown to us, and I would like to know more about you. Darcy speaks highly of you, which is surely a point in your favour. How long have your family farmed Pemberley land?”
“Seven generations, my lord.”
“And you’ve grown your acreage over at least the last two, from what Darcy tells me.”
“Yes, my lord. My father and I have been blessed with enough success to take on more lands.”
“Will it not be difficult, to give up those lands for an estate gained through marriage?”
“It will, my lord,” said Mr. Smith. “I was my father’s only son – I grew up knowing the tenancy of Stonebridge Farm as my birthright. And now it is to be broken up, and I am to be master of an estate I have never seen, in a county I do not know.”
“You can hardly say you do not benefit by it, however.”
“No, of course not, my lord.”
“There will be some difficulty for you, in society, in marrying a woman with a fortune so much greater than yours. There will be those who say you tricked my niece, who say you sought the marriage solely for Rosings. What would you say to them?”
“I hope I needn’t say anything to them, my lord, that they may see in my actions and evident affections towards my wife that Rosings was not my first concern in marrying Anne – indeed, to me it was more of a detriment, for I did not enter into such an elevation lightly.”
“No, you did not. Darcy has told me of your hesitance, and it speaks well of you. He also told me that you offered to put the estate into a trust, when you drew up the marriage papers, so that Anne would retain control.”
Anne smiled, recalling with a warm heart when they had called her into Fitzwilliam’s study to discuss this. Mr. Smith had been readily willing to give her this, and were it not for the persuasions of both herself and her cousin, he very well would have done so.
“I did,” said Mr. Smith. “Mr. Darcy and Miss de Bourgh convinced me otherwise. Mr. Darcy said it was necessary for me to be in a position of true authority over the estate, if I wished to turn it around, and I could not be seen to be so if the estate was in trust.”
Lord Brandon nodded, and seemed to be contemplating another question, but Anne could not like what had been left unsaid, and added, “Fitzwilliam would not have turned down such an offer, or endorsed the marriage at all, without complete trust in Mr. Smith. He has known him for longer than any of us.”
“Indeed, but your cousin is not marrying him – you are.”
“I trust him,” said Anne. “I trust him with everything.”
“And what will you do, if Mr. Smith ever disagrees with you on some matter regarding the estate?”
“I do not see that happening. My education has not prepared me to run an estate – it will be enough of a challenge to run the house. Most of what I know about estate management comes from Fitzwilliam and Mr. Smith. In such matters, Mr. Smith has been my greatest mentor, over the past few months.”
“So, then, what would you both do if Mr. Smith instituted some change, or even if you agreed a change should be made, and Mr. Darcy disagreed that it was the right thing to be done?”
Anne and Mr. Smith exchanged a look of confused horror, neither of them able to contemplate a situation where either of them – much less both – would act in opposition to Mr. Darcy’s recommendation. The sober countenance Lord Brandon had held cracked substantially, and he began to chuckle as his wife said, “Andrew, do not tease them. You have been closer to being in his boots than you like to admit, now.”
Lord Brandon did not cease his chuckling, however, until he said, “Oh the two of you, looking like a pair of schoolboys summoned to see the headmaster for some mischief they have caused. He will not be your master anymore, Mr. Smith. You might still value his advice, but ultimately the lives of everyone dependent on Rosings will be in your hands, not Darcy’s.”
“I know, my lord, and that was part of my hesitance in accepting Miss de Bourgh, until I came to understand that to refuse her was to leave her to bear those burdens alone.”
Lord Brandon seemed pleased by this response, but was prevented saying anything more by the entrance of a footman with the tea and coffee. Lady Ellen poured them each their prefe
rence, then seated herself and was the recipient of a particularly warm glance from her husband.
“Did you go to school?” asked Lady Ellen. It was the sort of question that would have sounded impertinent from Anne’s mother, yet in her aunt’s mild tones it was not so.
“I was tutored by old Mr. Reed, the rector of Kympton, until I was seventeen, my lady,” Mr. Smith said. “I did not go to university, though.”
“You either missed out on an education, or a great deal of debauchery, then,” said Lord Brandon. “In your case I suspect the former, but in our circles, it is unfortunately too much of the latter. My sons and Darcy excepted, thank God.”
Smith nodded.
“Do you gamble?”
“I play at cards some evenings, for amusement, but I do not play high.”
“Good,” said Lord Brandon, apparently contemplating his next question.
Mr. Smith survived this interview, and by the end of the hour they all spent in the state drawing-room, it had become more of a conversation than an interview, to Anne’s relief. Anne saw her betrothed – his countenance exceedingly relieved – off from the entrance-hall, turning away from the door with a sigh of relief herself. As she did so, Edward entered the hall, and huffed. “Have I missed him?”
“You have,” said Anne.
“Ah, I was hoping to congratulate him, but then again, perhaps he has had enough of Fitzwilliams for one day.”
Anne giggled. “It was not so bad as that, but I do think tomorrow might be best for him to visit with the rest of the family.”
Edward offered her his arm, and Anne took it, presuming he intended to lead her to wherever the others were passing a morning of heavy rain.
“I wish I could have congratulated you both together, but maybe this is better,” he said. “You and I were linked in a strange way for a while, Anne, and I wanted to tell you – I wanted to tell you I’m tremendously glad you’ve found what I have. At least I think you have.”
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