Yet the Son was to Come (Ch 11-20)

By Bethany Delleman

Chapter 11 – August 1814, Newcastle

Lydia Wickham lay in repose on her sofa. The drawing room was small and the furniture ill placed. It was one set of rooms in a long line of rooms and soon the sofa would be moved again. The Wickhams were forever in search of a cheaper situation and Lydia was always writing to her sisters asking for money. Jane and Elizabeth could afford it; they were both so rich! Lydia did not regret the path that had led her north and away from her family, but she did regret the coming of her time. She was used to the attentions of the other men in the corps, she was as determined a flirt as ever, but they now paid her little attention.

“I do not know what Wickham did wrong. We did not want to expect a child for some time.”

Lydia’s close friend, Mrs. Alicia Avery, a girl who seemed as silly and was just as young as Lydia, giggled. “Lydia, I did not think there was a way for a married woman to prevent it!”

Lydia rose to sit and whispered loudly to her friend, “I assure you Alicia, there is more than one thing that a woman and a man can do, if they are clever. But we must have not been as careful as I wanted.”

Alicia giggled again and blushed, “That is not proper!” she whispered back. She was a new addition to the regiment and newly married. Lydia was sure she would be round with a child soon enough. What did men care that they deprived their women of their fun? Wickham had not been eager to add a child to tax their limited means and had removed to London for the sole purpose of escaping Lydia’s complaining.

“Now Wickham has left me here in this state with nothing to do. I would visit Jane, but she is so devoted to the little boys. It was so boring the last time I went I could hardly stand it. And I cannot abide Lizzy’s judgement. She is as bad as Darcy. I suppose it is not so bad to remain in Newcastle for my confinement, you have promised to attend me, with the other wives of the officers. I could hardly leave now; but I am bored to distraction!”

“There is a dance next week, Captain Martin will have a small gathering at the hall.”

“I cannot go Alicia; I cannot dance like this and without Wickham I will sit all night. I cannot even wear my blue dress; the bodice is far too tight, and I have not the money to adjust it. I am wretched. You must go and tell me every detail.”

“I believe Mrs. Gates will be there, have you seen her new gown?”

“It is the most horrid thing I have ever seen! I know she must be forty at least, but she has no sense of fashion. The colour makes her look sick and it fits so ill her ample bosom obscures the sash and decoration. She is always lecturing me about my flirtation with the officers, but I imagine she is envious. Who would give her a second glance? She is as ugly as she is fat.”

“Oh Lydia, you are too wicked!”

“I say only what others must think. You know Captain Martin’s wife might be young and fair, but I have hardly seen a man give her a second glance. She has so little natural endowment.”

“She was pretty enough to attract her husband’s attention.”

“Well, he has little to recommend him either. I say he is very plain, not even a smart coat can improve his appearance. If he had wit, it might not matter, but you must agree he talks of nothing but his dogs and his rifles.”

“I daresay many a military man has such faults.”

“I am entirely convinced of that fact. There is hardly one in ten men worth my attention, but I am ever so generous to give it anyway.”

“How am I to enjoy the gatherings without you?”

“Depend on it, when I am past this inconvenience, I will be back by your side. You must know how put upon I am. I am so tired and out of temper.”

Alicia bore Lydia’s complaining with fortitude. She was young and easily led and Lydia seemed wiser by her time with the regulars. Lydia’s elopement was not known in their new company, but her reputation had been quickly established as a flirt and a very silly woman. Several of the older wives in the company had tried to restrain her but their efforts had been in vain. Three of them had determined that the confinement was the best time to make Lydia compliant and they had convinced her to remain in the north.

Lydia however, had no intentions of changing. Wickham was indifferent to her, which she had known for some time, and her affection for him had diminished to the same degree. Her decision to remain in Newcastle for her confinement had more to do with avoiding the grave looks of her father and the judgement of her mother than any true inclination towards duty or comradery. Lydia also held dear an ardent hope of recovering quickly and returning to the company and pursuits that she had become accustomed to.

A knock at the door startled Lydia, as it was past time for callers and Wickham was out. The girl opened the door and after a small commotion, brought forward a guest. Curious, Lydia rose carefully to meet a woman of about fifty, neatly dressed but clearly of lower birth.

“Mrs. Lydia Wickham?”

“Yes, I am she.”

“My name is Mrs. Smith. Your sister, Mrs. Darcy sent me. I have served as a nursemaid for many young ladies in Derbyshire. My references are available at your request.”

Lydia stared at the woman in wonder which quickly turned to anger. She had written to Jane and Elizabeth for money and they sent this woman? Lydia kept her composure but she was simmering with rage. Lydia was sure this woman would have come with Lizzy’s morals and would be reminding her of them constantly. It would be as bad as her stay with the Gardiners before her wedding!

“My husband is not at home.”

“It is no matter Mrs. Wickham, I have the consent of your husband, Mr. Darcy arranged everything. Direct me to my accommodation and I shall do the rest.”

“Does my sister send me anything?”

“She sends her love, ma’am, and a letter.”

Lydia glowered but gave Mrs. Smith the desired instructions. She took the letter but did not open it, it was sure to contain nothing but censure. Mrs. Smith had two men following her with her trunk. As Lydia sat down again beside Alicia, the other girl smiled broadly.

“Your sister is so kind!”

“This is not kindness Alicia. They will always believe me a child! If Lizzy had sent money, I could have employed my own nursemaid. This is a scheme I am sure to control me. There is no charity from Lizzy without difficulties. I am sure this Mrs. Smith will be every bit as horrid as my sister. But what can we do? I am sure she will consider this her duty discharged towards me and the child.”

Lydia’s discontent ran long and her friend was kind to remain. Alicia did not entirely understand Lydia. She was a simple girl, much in awe of her new married state and naive enough to believe what Lydia told her. As long as Lydia supplied gossip and frivolity, she was forever making friends, whether she could keep them was far less certain.

Chapter 12 – August 1814, Pemberley

Elizabeth could not be more pleased to see Pemberley come into view. Young Fitz jumped with delight, holding on to the window of the carriage. Kitty reached to steady him, still allowing him a view. While Jane, Mr. Bingley, and their twin boys had been prevailed upon to stay for another week, Elizabeth was weary from the visit and eager to be back with her husband. Her mother’s company remained as irksome as ever and the society of Meryton was familiar. There was hardly anything new to observe or learn from the families within her parent’s acquaintance.

Mary alone would remain with Mrs. Bennet, who had begun to rapidly improve as many women do after their first few months. Mrs. Reid was happy with her progress and while she could not be prevailed upon to name the baby an heir, she was more assured of the endurance of Mrs. Bennet’s condition. They were to pray for a safe delivery. Mrs. Bennet was exceedingly pleased and still very certain she was carrying the blessed, promised boy.

Elizabeth herself did not bother to guess what she carried. The boy had already come, strong and healthy as could be, and she wished a daughter; if only because she had more experience in that domain. She knew her husband would be content with either, he had raised his own sister and delighted in his son. Unlike her own parents, she had no fear of her possible daughter’s futures. The childhood of her children would be so unlike her own upbringing. There would be fortunes for the girls and there would be no difficulty outfitting a wealth of sons for acceptable professions. The purchase of a commission in the army or monies for school would be a thing of ease. Her children would not live in fear of impending poverty.

Fitzwilliam and Georgiana were waiting to greet them; the latter joined Kitty and they were together at once and off to the music room together, giggles echoing through the hall as they went. Fitz was pleased to see his father and hung about his neck, pressing his small face into his father’s shirt. Elizabeth was no less pleased to see her husband. They proceeded inside to dress for dinner.

Elizabeth met Fitzwilliam with some time before the others were ready, “Have you really missed me?”

“How could I not? Did you have a pleasant stay?”

“You must suspect I did not! If my mother had not insisted, I would have come home sooner. She could not resist showing young Fitz to every friend and acquaintance within ten miles. We tried to prevent her from speaking of her own condition so early but it was all in vain. I could not help but blush when we visited Lady Lucas.” Her husband held his tongue but Elizabeth could see the change in his countenance. “I have not heard from Charlotte in some time. I hope the news did not reach her… indiscreetly.”

Fitzwilliam answered thusly, “I do feel for your friend if the news has reached her only as cruel gossip and conjecture. However, as to the other matter, there is always a chance of change in inheritance while the owner of the estate still lives. There can be no guarantee. Mr. Collins was the first male heir but his relation to you was not close. With your father in good health, he could have argued for the inheritance to fall to one of his male grandchildren. It is not so very uncommon in cases such as your family’s.”

“I am sure you are correct; however, it is a material change for her. Or perhaps will be, if a son really is to come.”

“Yes, it is far too early for real fears. However, if something had ever happened to your dear mother, your father might have remarried.”

At this Elizabeth could not help but laugh, “You cannot truly suppose that my father, who begrudges every moment that society robs him of his time in the library, would have the inclination to secure a new wife? I cannot imagine him going far beyond Meryton in the search and I cannot think of any woman thereabouts that might suit his fancy.”

“I only mention it as a possibility in regards to the entail. Though in your father’s case it does seem a very distant prospect.”

“We all had completely given up all hope of a change. I believe that Charlotte and Lady Lucas depended on nothing disrupting Mr. Collins’s inheritance. I do not blame them for it, I even feel some pity for Charlotte. I do not know how she has borne the company of our aunt for so long. She must have a great deal of fortitude,” said Elizabeth.

“I would wish every happiness for Charlotte, her contribution to the society at Rosings has been of great use to the both of us.”

“Her company is indeed diverting but we cannot rely on her to always be at our disposal. Besides, did you not marry me to ensure that you might never again visit your aunt alone?”

“Yes, that must have been my primary inducement; I hardly know any other reason for our marriage. How do you find employment between our yearly visits?”

“Ah, you forget that Lady Catherine orders me to practice my playing. The other eleven months of the year I must be at the instrument; for nothing can be gained without practice.”

“You have been severely neglecting your duties.”

“When we lose Georgiana, I might be more inclined to improve myself. As it is, we have far superior entertainment than I can offer.”

“I must not speak, there can be no proper response,” Fitzwilliam said seriously.

“Whatever can you mean?” Elizabeth asked innocently.

“If I extend praise for you, you will cry that I neglect my sister, and if I expound on her abilities, I will be slighting my own wife. Therefore, I am absolutely resolved to silence.”

“Oh, you have evaded my attack. It is so unfortunate; I had meant to make a great deal of your disregard of either one of us. I suppose the evening must be spent in more rational manner.”

“Do not despair, I can never evade your teasing entirely. You will have another cause by the end of dinner.”

Elizabeth smiled and took her husband’s arm. As they entered the dining room, she happily looked around the room at her small family. Her mother and her impropriety were forgotten and she felt the calm happiness of domestic felicity. She fell silent and happily listened to her dear sisters and husband as they discussed the day.

Wickham,

I have nothing to send. Elizabeth has made other arrangements. Shall I remind you that your wife is laid up at home and lonely? Since I know you cannot care, I will not waste more ink.

Lydia

Gracechurch St., Mrs. Gardiner

My dear Aunt,

Your council has once again proved invaluable; Fitz was a far better passenger on our return journey to Derbyshire. I miss having you and your sage advice within an easy distance, but I do not know when we shall be back in Town. If we do make a trip to Rosings this year, I shall do my best to take your house in our way. Believe me when I say that all of us will take far more pleasure in your society then what we shall meet with in Kent.

I know you rely on me for a rational report from Longbourn. My mother is entirely recovered from her earlier indisposition and, in as much as these things can be known, we have sanguine hopes that the child will come. My mother, of course, is entirely convinced it shall be a boy and my own suggestions are partially to blame. Do not attempt to discuss this with her rationally, she is beyond the reach of reason.

 Kitty is back with us at Pemberley, she sends her love. Write to me soon! As both a hint and a plea for aid, tell me how your children have been acquainted with the idea of a new addition to the family. I fear our lively little boy shall not be overjoyed to share his nursery.

Your devoted niece & etc.

Elizabeth Darcy

Chapter 13 – August 1814, London

Captain George Wickham crumpled Lydia’s letter in anger and tossed it into the empty fire grate. He was not entirely sure if he believed that she had nothing, but it was immaterial. He needed to pay his debt of honour and he had not enough time to apply for money elsewhere. Wickham had few real friends and no surviving family. Even if one of his friends could be convinced to help him, they were too distant for him to apply to them now. Lydia’s connections had kept him from poverty or worse several times over the last three years, but that particular source of reprieve had finally failed him.

Wickham left his cheap accommodations and went to face his fate. He had yet a single possession of value to offer and he believed it would suffice. He carried with him his captain’s commission. Darcy, in all his condescending kindness, had purchased Wickham a commission into a home regiment. Wickham had never previously dared to risk losing that precious protection, not when Napoleon was warmongering in France and good Englishmen were dying on the continent. The outbreak of peace had changed Wickham’s resolutions and he knew that while his commission had diminished in value, there were men enough who wanted the assurance of never leaving home.

The man Wickham had lost to was another Captain in the regulars, but one who had just returned from war. Flushed with victory and extraordinary pay, he had tempted Wickham further than his judgement. Wickham had lost too much and he had no means, save this most precious one, to repay what was owed.

“I have grown rather impatient,” said the officer, when Wickham came upon him at the club where they had met before, “Do not tempt me into a contest.”

“I have something that will interest you,” Wickham said, laying the commission before him, “but the price is more dear than what I owe.”

“You wish to lose more then?” the man laughed.

“Or gain back my losses.”

“An excellent plan!” The man took out his own credentials and threw them on the table, “You will be happy to learn that my former regiment is to be stationed at Newcastle. No one will need to even know of your foolishness.” The difference between the documents was agreed upon and Wickham was given fish for his share.

“Your former regiment?” Wickham repeated.

“I mean to win,” said he with another hearty laugh.

It was by no means an easy victory. For some time, Wickham had won his debt repaid and more besides, but he played greedily. When it was clear that he should take what he had and return home, he pressed on undeterred. The night ended not at his request, but by his opponent’s departure.

“I will not rely on your honour,” said the other officer, rising from the table, “we shall part as friends.”

“Will you not play another rubber?” Wickham said, his even voice hiding the desperation he felt.

“You have nothing left to wager,” said he, and picking up the precious commission he had won, he looked it over and said almost absently, “I never could have afforded this myself, How someone like you could is beyond my understanding. Do you really have no fear of what may come?”

 “The war is over.”

“There is always another war. Do you really think that man will be contained forever? Or that the French will forget their former glory? I think not.”

Wickham was in no humour to be lectured; he took up his new commission and left. He would need to return to Newcastle at once to report to his new regiment. That was no difficulty, he had just enough money to return home. It had always been his intention to depart when the money ran out; there was no pleasure to be had in London without a full purse.

Early the next morning, Wickham slipped out of the hotel without paying either the woman who remained sleeping in his bed or settling his bill. It was all under a false name and with luck Mrs. Younge would have rooms the next time he went to London. He found the cheapest transport back to Newcastle, and with full confidence in not being robbed when he had nothing of value to lose, promptly fell asleep.

To Mr. Collins, Hunsford, Kent

Dear Sir,

Once again, I shall trouble you for congratulations. It has become somewhat of a theme of our correspondence. As I am sure you have heard, my dear wife is expecting a confinement. It was indeed a happy circumstance that you avoided marriage with any of my daughters, as you have expounded upon previously. It would have given me some pain if this recent development had materially changed any of their prospects.

As always, I look forward to your next letter with unparalleled delight.

Yours sincerely, etc.

Mr. Bennet

Chapter 14 – August 1814, Woodhaven

Mrs. Jane Bingley was a woman of good temper but even she could only endure for a few weeks in the constant company of her mother. The Bingley’s removal from the country of Hertfordshire and purchase of their estate had put Jane at more ease than she had felt in her entire life. Suddenly free of the embarrassment and vulgarity of her family, she truly felt the challenge her mother and sisters had placed on her goodwill. It was no surprise to Jane, Charles, or the Darcys that the twins’ arrival was exactly eleven months after their removal from Netherfield.

Charles and Jane’s home was by no means an equal to Pemberley, but Jane had loved it from the first look. Charles had been quick to purchase it once Darcy had assured him of its value as a home and the estate’s want of improvement. The house had been in a good state and only in need of a family and furniture. The lands and the tenants were another matter. Charles had employed himself happily in the management and improvement of the farms. Jane had risen to the challenge of employing staff, establishing relationships with businesses that were to supply the family with daily needs, and then suddenly the care of their two boys, young Charles and Lewis. As Mr. Bennet had predicted upon their engagement, they were perhaps overly kind to their servants, but luckily, those who chose to take advantage of their kindness were soon found out by those who quickly became attached to the family and its mistress. In the matter of a year, several staff were dismissed, and an honest housekeeper and steward were secured. Jane could feel assured with help from those they had come to rely on.

The journey from Meryton to their home, Woodhaven, had not always seemed so long but the twins were young and they did not enjoy the carriage. It was already more than an easy distance before the children had made everything more cumbersome. Jane, Charles, and their two nursemaids were forever changing the twins’ positions, their clothes, and feeding them to little avail. At little more than a year old, there was nothing to be done if the boys set their minds against being content. It was therefore quite late and very dark by the time the Bingleys arrived home.

Caroline had already arrived and greeted them as they came in. Jane and Caroline had become good friends, and Jane happily considered any ill-intent between them as a thing of the past. Still unmarried, Caroline spent a good deal of her time with the Bingleys, whether they were in town or in the country. Her presence has provided them with an unexpected benefit, the twins loved to listen to music and Jane had never learned to play. Their aunt would not deny her little nephews the pleasure.

Despite the late hour, Caroline asked her brother to speak with her alone. Jane, overcome with fatigue, was already retired to her room when Charles burst in.

“Jane, you will not believe- I must write to Darcy immediately!”

“We only just came home. What could be the urgency?”

“Caroline is engaged! To Colonel Fitzwilliam. I cannot say I am surprised, but I am sure Darcy will want to know. I did not think there was anything between them more than a passing flirtation; though I must say it is not a bad match. He is the son of an earl. What will we do without Caroline to play for the twins?”

Jane almost laughed at her husband’s rapid and disjointed thoughts. She responded to the first sentiment, “I am sure the Colonel will tell Darcy, though write to him if you feel it proper. I thought they were very friendly in town. I must admit to spending more of my time thinking about Kitty as it was her first season. If they are truly attached, I think it very delightful. He is such an agreeable man.”

“I know Darcy spoke of his uncle wanting the Colonel to marry; though I do not know the particulars,” said Charles. He had a look of uncertainty that Jane did not like.

“Is something amiss?” she asked.

“I only hope that my sister has considered her heart as well as her head. It is a good match for her, but I would not want to see her unhappy.”

“I do not think she would marry recklessly, but I can speak with her tomorrow if it would ease your mind.”

This was enough for Charles. The morning found Caroline in good spirits and the sisters went out to walk in the park together.

Jane began, “Charles told me that you and Colonel Fitzwilliam are engaged. I am pleased for you. The Colonel is a charming man! We shall be sad to part with you to be sure.”

“I am sure to visit often and see you in town,” Caroline said.

“You know that I love you as a sister,” Jane said, “and I will tell you the same that I did her: tell me that you love him. I would advise anything but marrying without affection.”

Caroline laughed, “Oh Jane, you are too good! Not everyone can share your extraordinary luck. There is always time after the wedding for affection.”

Jane was not at all satisfied in Caroline’s answer. It had been love that had insured Jane’s acceptance of Charles’s hand. However, she could not say anything negative about the Colonel. He was Darcy’s cousin and held in excellent regard by herself and all others who knew him. She finally said, “I would want the same happiness for you, Caroline as I have found.”

Caroline laughed. “Men like my brother are not thick on the ground Jane, but I am certain that in time we will be just as happy as you. I prefer to be in town and Colonel Fitzwilliam has agreed with my plan to find a home near yours in London. You must not be so distressed! This sort of thing is not uncommon.”

“If it is not uncommon, neither is regret.”

“I have not run into anything without thought. Colonel Fitzwilliam has just the temperament to suit me, his rank and connections are beyond reproach, and I think in every way we shall be well matched. I have had word that his father approves the marriage, we wait for nothing now but the articles. Once Colonel Fitzwilliam has returned from Kent, he will speak with Charles.”

“If you are resolved.”

“Entirely. Please do not set yourselves against us for such a foolish reason. I have great admiration and respect for him. I know many who have married with much less.”

“You know my sentiments, but no, we will not oppose it,” said Jane, with some sadness.

Jane had nothing more to argue. She knew that even her aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, had only felt a small amount of fondness for her husband when they married. It was difficult for one who had married so well and happily to imagine domestic felicity to be achieved in another manner, but she was soon persuaded that Caroline would be content in her choice. It was not difficult, once Jane was convinced, for Charles to be satisfied as well.

The only remaining difficulty was the loss of a companion, which Jane was forced to admit would be a challenge to herself. Elizabeth was thirty miles off and there was a great difference between that and a sister in the house. Charles, of course, had no unmarried sisters left to provide, and Jane did not wish to separate Kitty from Georgiana.

“Perhaps I shall request Mary,” she said one day, in near jest, to Charles.

“I do not see why not

Jane soon found herself writing a letter to that effect.

Chapter 15 – August 1814, Longbourn

Mary Bennet did not know that a letter was coming by post to request her presence, but it would not have lessened her distaste for the ball she was currently attending with her mother. It was a horrid waste of time she ought to devote to study! While even she could acknowledge that her appearance had benefited from the full attention of her mother, her father’s purse, and the devoted use of the lady’s maid she once shared with her sisters, Mary still did not enjoy the assembly in Meryton. The marriages and beauty of Jane and Elizabeth were still talked of, Lydia, fortunately, was hardly mentioned, and Kitty’s improvement, when she was seen at home was also a popular topic among the gossips and mammas. Mary never was anyone’s primary interest and she saw little to interest her. The marriageable men did not suit her nor she them. They had all gathered before and all knew that they would gather again.

Mary was engaged for at least half of the dances, but she did not note the men or share many words with any of them. She longed to return to her pianoforte and her books. Her mother had no one else to direct her will upon and she longed to have Mary well settled. This was an amusing prospect to Mary, as it also seemed that her mother could not live without her and her company for more than a few days. Mary was not entirely certain how her mother, or father, had survived her four months away in town. She did not dwell long on the problem of marrying, as it was unlikely to become reality. She had no present means to do so, as much as she felt it was her duty.

Mrs. Bennet was sitting with Mrs. Philips, speaking loudly with her about the preparations for the new baby. Assured as ever that it was the long-awaited son, she spoke happily to any who would listen.

“And dear sister, I know you will attend me for my confinement, you always have, but how different it will be this time! I will know what is to be done and so will you. Do you recall when I had Jane, how new it all was! We both of us had no experience. You were so good to come for each of the girls. I am sure Mr. Philips can do without you again.”

“I expected the next child I helped care for would be one of your grandchildren, but now I will have a nephew, or a niece.”

“You must say nephew! I have ordered the clothes from London. Jane advised me of the places and gave me the right ideas. No expense is to be spared, not for this little one. With Jane and Lizzy out of the house, and with Kitty so often away; there is little in the way of expenses from her. Everyone should have a child when the others are grown. One is much more equal to the task than when one has four other children to attend to!”

Mrs. Philips assented and listened quietly to her sister. Mrs. Philips had never been blessed with a child of her own. She entertained herself with visiting, hosting, and gossip about her nieces.

“What of Mary?” Mrs. Philips asked suddenly, breaking Mrs. Bennet’s reverie.

“What of Mary? She is pretty enough and her playing has improved so much under the masters in London. She says Meryton has not a soul she likes. I cannot understand the girl. Her sisters were much more eager to please and make merry with the young men. If she only had a little of Lydia or Kitty, but she does not flirt. She prefers to play and sing, and she says such things that I hardly understand. I do not think they recommend her!”

“My nephew, Mr. Edward Philips, will soon return to Meryton. He is almost finished his last year of clerkship and then, as you know, Mr. Philips plans to do much less. Most of the attorney practice will pass to Edward in time. We expect him to be well established within a year or two. I do not know a lady of the neighbourhood well suited to him. He is very grave and serious!”

Mrs. Bennet had not considered this; Edward Philips had been far from her mind and gone from Meryton when she had become most anxious of securing her daughters in marriage. His parents had both died when he was in his teens and Mr. and Mrs. Philips had taken him in. When he began to show interest in the law, they had arranged for his education, with a plan to eventually have him take over the business.

Mrs. Bennet had risen above the circumstances of her own family, her father being that same attorney in Meryton when she had caught Mr. Bennet’s attention. Mr. Philips had succeeded him in the business and wed Mrs. Bennet’s older sister. To marry an attorney would never have been considered for Jane: it would have been a waste of her beauty and rank. But with three years since her great triumph of marrying three daughters within a year, Mary had not shown any effort towards securing a match. Mrs. Bennet’s prompting and scolding had done little to prompt a change. Mary did not even wish to travel to her sisters’ houses.

“I think, dear sister, that we must make pains to have your nephew and Mary together when he returns. Perhaps we could host a small party at Longbourn. There is enough space in the large drawing room for a few couples to dance. We will need to invite one of the Goulding girls; they can play well and will be persuaded to keep Mary from the instrument!”

“I shall invite Mary for cards, she has learned to play has she not? Edward does love to play, but never for money. I do not think Mary will mind. Would it not be pleasing, Mrs. Bennet, to have a daughter settled in Meryton?”

“I do think so! Dear Lydia is so far away. I will not even be able to visit for her confinement! We were thinking that a child would not come, you know. However, Lizzy and Jane are good girls, they visit their mother. But they are so far away. To have a daughter settled nearby may do my nerves such good. With the boy coming, I shall not have the time I ought to get her a match.”

Mary was sitting nearby and had no trouble overhearing what her mother and aunt were discussing. Mary could hardly remember Edward; he had rarely been home during his education as his clerkship was being completed a good distance from home and the Philips did not keep a carriage. She cared little for outward appearance, she had long discounted her own beauty, but now wished she could remember anything.

She had never fancied herself to be in love and she was not certain she ever would be. She had never known a man to fancy her and did not know quite what she was supposed to admire. While she would have been prevailed upon to accept an offer from Mr. Collins, that had been so long ago, she hardly remembered it. Now at one-and-twenty she preferred to accumulate accomplishments instead of employing them to the purpose for which they were intended. This was a strain on her, for she knew it was a sin to not obey the ardent wishes of her mother. She was mollified somewhat by the lax demands of her father.

The match that her aunt had suggested seemed fine enough for Mary. She decided that night that if Edward Philips seemed a decent man, she would make the best of it. To be a suitable partner, he must be a serious man, not given to gambling or to port wine. He must allow her time for study and music. Oh, but Mrs. Philips could not afford an instrument! Perhaps her parents could provide one as a wedding present. She would certainly still be able to make use of her parent’s library. She continued in this line of thinking for the remainder of the assembly until she had nearly accepted the man sight unseen.

Dearest Louisa,

  Everything is settled between my dear Colonel and his family. I have full expectations of being married early next year; do you not think fur trim on my gown will look rather handsome? The little difficulties have all been smoothed away by our excellent brother and sister, the odious business of it all. I must find my way to town soon to purchase my clothes and muse about where we should purchase a house. Only the best will do, as you well know.

For now, I am to remain at Woodhaven. The Darcys have been planning to host a gathering of the Fitzwilliams and Bingleys so that we may all smile and speak nonsense to each other before the wedding. Colonel Fitzwilliam has visited several times and I think that everyone loves him better than ever, especially myself. He really is almost perfect, and if he had not an older brother, he would really be the best man in the world. But I shall not ask for too much. I do really feel that being the daughter-in-law of an earl shall be enough for me.

Write to me soon, or better, convince your indolent husband that you will visit. I am certainly not without resources or company. The Darcys visit often and we have regular intercourse with many families of note in the county, but there is no one like you my dearest sister.

My undying devotion & etc.

Caroline Bingley

From Charlotte Collins, Hunsford

Dear Elizabeth,

We are all in good health, especially little William, who I believe has grown at least two inches since you saw him last. How does your little boy? I have heard reports from all of my correspondents in Meryton about his handsome face When do you return to Derbyshire?  I am eager to see him again. Lady Catherine often laments your long absence and will not accept that Georgiana’s debut in London was any cause for neglect of her. My husband, of course, is entirely of her mind. As you well know, there is no logic strong enough to do away with their misplaced feelings of ill-usage.

I have increasing fears-

There have been signs-

I wish my husband had not already written about his expectations.

(unsent)

Chapter 16 – September 1814, Pemberley

“It is exactly as you expected.” Elizabeth sat across from Fitzwilliam, each working at their respective desks. The letter from Mrs. Smith had just arrived and Elizabeth had been anxious to hear a true account of her sister. Lydia’s correspondence was limited to appeals for money and those were very short and told of nearly nothing but their supposed poverty.

“What does Mrs. Smith say?”

“Lydia is much closer to her time than we guessed. Mrs. Smith expects the child within the month. No preparations have been made, there is no nursery prepared and the only clothes are those sent by Jane and my mother, with the addition of gifts from some of the older wives of the regiment. Wickham is back in Newcastle; she has good reason to believe that he is the cause of a good portion of their penury. She has used the monies we sent to pay the rent for half a year and purchase the necessities for the child.”

“Do the Wickhams truly do nothing?”

“Neither Wickham nor Lydia think of anything but the present! That she does not even make the clothes, I cannot understand. I had hoped for better.”

“Mrs. Smith is very competent; she will have the home in order. I was almost loath to recommend her; she is very relied upon by the families here in the area. However, I could not secure anyone else with so good a reputation. We could hardly trust your sister.”

“She writes in post-script that Lydia has a new gown, the purchase of which seems to align with her last entreaty for money! Selfish girl. Mrs. Smith has requested some additional funds in anticipation of further expenses. I will write her back presently; this has done nothing to allay my concern.”

Fitzwilliam sighed. He returned to his own accounts and letters. Wickham was his responsibility, and only his connection to Elizabeth’s family and remaining loyalty to Fitzwilliam’s own father and former steward kept him from debtor’s prison or the poorhouse. Wickham was clever enough to keep his debts within reason and Lydia to request modest amounts in excess of that. It was for the sake of the child, more than the couple, that Fitzwilliam and his wife had come to the decision to send Mrs. Smith. Neither of them trusted Lydia to display prudence. At nineteen, she had gained neither wisdom nor experience. She was the same silly girl who had eloped with Wickham at sixteen.

Fitzwilliam checked his letters for anything from his contact in London whom he had engaged shortly after Lydia’s marriage. Finding nothing, he began to write a letter to him in anticipation of creditors demands. Wickham was profligate, but Fitzwilliam was not. He saved and spent his money carefully and invested well. It was hardly a burden to the estate to support the Wickhams, no matter how painful it was to himself.

It had injured Elizabeth to read the letter and it pained her to write to Mrs. Smith and not Lydia, but she no longer trusted her sister to perform her duty as mother with any competence. It was only Elizabeth and Jane’s fortune in marrying well that kept Lydia from real danger. Until Kitty and Georgiana were safely married, it was of the utmost importance to maintain the illusion of propriety in her sister.

“We have spoken before of the end of this arrangement,” she said. Her husband looked up from his writing. Elizabeth was unhappily staring at the content of her letter. 

“You know as well as I that we cannot do anything else. Lydia must accept the help of Mrs. Smith; she has no alternative. I cannot allow our nephew or niece to be neglected. That Mrs. Smith will be a good influence upon Lydia, I dare to hope.”

“It is so difficult to be forced to treat my own sister with such duplicity. I sometimes wonder if it would not be better for us to cut them off completely.”

“Then she would only be a greater burden on your parents and Jane.”

Elizabeth paced about the room; her husband was correct. She had convinced her mother and Jane not to send anything else for the present, but Lydia would always find a sympathetic ear in both of them, “We are all trapped by her imprudence. I wish you did not need to be a part to this.”

Fitzwilliam moved to his wife and placed his hands on her shoulders. She covered his hand with her own. “It was my choice. Without my interference the marriage would not have taken place. I bound them together and I renewed my offer to you. I do not regret it.”

Elizabeth nodded. She sat back down and finished writing. With a heavy heart, she signed the letter, folded, and sealed it. The money within would more than provide for what was needed, along with what they had already sent. The arrangement would continue. Though Elizabeth felt little sisterly love towards Lydia now, she could not help but feel some pity. Wickham was nothing when compared to her own husband; he had so little to recommend him beyond gentleman-like manners and appearance. Lydia might fancy herself happy and indulged but Elizabeth knew the truth of a happy marriage and life. 

With the letter written and deliberately out of mind, Elizabeth wrote her other letters with determination. Finally, her last task was upon her.

“Fitzwilliam, we must decide upon our visits before my family comes here for Christmas. Your uncle we can visit with ease, are we to see Lady Catherine as well?”

“My uncle has written, he is pleased with my cousin’s engagement to Caroline, on my recommendation, and desires to visit here so he might meet her. With the Earl and the Bingleys so close, it seems convenient for them to meet all together here. I have extended our invitation and await their word.”

“And your most useful aunt?”

Fitzwilliam smiled at the title. It had been upon the arrival of their son that they had sought to heal the breach with Lady Catherine. Fitzwilliam had little inclination to initiate the repair; he still felt his aunt’s insults to Elizabeth, but she was eager to reform the connection and heal the friction it had caused between the de Bourghs and the Earl. Elizabeth had pragmatically applied to her father and upon the presentation of her evidence that at least nine generations of Bennets had occupied Longbourn, Lady Catherine decided to be proud of the longevity of the father’s line and to forget the mother’s entirely. The Darcys never spoke of the Gardiners in her presence and left her to happily refer to Elizabeth as from a very old and established family, though indeed, not a very wealthy one.

“I have neglected my aunt; Lady Catherine expects a visit once a year and we have not yet gone.”

“I shall write. I am certain she will want us to stay long, I will be direct.”

With her work complete, Elizabeth left to properly dress for the morning visits. Young Fitz ran into the room shortly after and clung to his father’s leg.

“What is wrong little one?”

The nursemaid ran in after, “I am sorry, sir,” she said breathlessly.

“Never mind, what is the matter?”

Fitz was too frightened and had too little command of language to explain. Fitzwilliam plucked him from his leg and held him closely on his knee. The young boy gripped his father’s coat and began to cry.

“A bird flew into the nursery, we had the window open for the heat,” the nursemaid paused to catch her breath, “It burst into the room quite suddenly. I do apologize.”

“Oh dear Fitz, it is nothing but a bird. Your father will attend to it,” Fitzwilliam comforted his son and picking him up, carried him back to the room to address the offending bird. By now, the frightened sparrow had become somewhat calmer and sat on a high shelf. Now Fitz was delighted and as it no longer could terrify him, he bid his father raise him closer to the animal. Wisely, Fitzwilliam held his son at a comfortable distance and let him admire from there.

Once his son had a fill of this novel situation, the door was closed with the hope that the small creature would escape back outdoors. Fitzwilliam, unwilling to return to more serious matters, kept his son and went out of doors. In the shade of Pemberley’s Park, the heat was not as harsh and together they looked for more birds and creatures, not returning until fatigue called the little boy back within.

Dear Charlotte,

I am sorry to have not written sooner. When I am in Hertfordshire, I always feel sure that any news I might have will be carried by other channels to Kent. I am back at Pemberley and I was surprised not to find a letter waiting from yourself. Everyone here is well and I hope to hear that you and yours continue in good health.

It is very likely that we shall soon be in Kent, I will let you know the exact time as soon as it is arranged. Make me the happiest of women by assuring me of your presence! Selfish as I am, you know that I always rely on your company and rational conversation. It shall be a short visit this year, we have more obligations on our time than I had anticipated.

As for my son, my father has done some magic by little Fitz, because ever since Longbourn he has been wild about drawing. He makes squiggles and shapes and insists on bringing them to me and explaining their meaning. I am often amused, for he draws his own name in a hundred different fashions and none of them correct. It is delightful to see him so interested in any activity, though I have heard this is often the way with children. Every mother I meet tells me he shall be on to the next thing soon and that it shall be so sudden that I will wonder where the first passion has gone. Only let the next be so quiet!

Write to me soon & etc.

Elizabeth Darcy.

Chapter 17 – October 1814, Longbourn

“Mr. Bennet! Come quickly, Lydia has written!” Mrs. Bennet called to the library where Mr. Bennet was engaged in his usual pastime. He closed his book with displeasure, knowing that no peace would be had until the contents of the letter were related to him.

“What is it, my dear? Has the baby come?”

“Yes, Mr. Bennet and it is a girl! Lydia has named her Lavinia, which I have never heard in my life. I had hoped she would be named for me; it is the first girl of all our grandchildren; but she is not even named for Wickham’s mother- no it was Lydia’s fancy. She asks now for money for the christening, but I have already sent her the gown I sewed for the dear child. Do you not think we should send more?”

“You must remember that Lizzy assured us everything was settled by herself. We will send them their quarterly amount soon enough and she must make do with that.”

“Oh Mr. Bennet, you are so cruel. Lydia is so alone in the north and we could not even visit with her! We must send them some clothes and a small amount of some kind. It cannot be too much of a burden.”

“It is proper for a family to supply for a child in want. A young woman, however, who causes her own despair by her actions, may be properly left to reap what she has sown. Our sister should request less and live more within her means,” Mary observed.

Mrs. Bennet ignored Mary, as she always did, and continued to apply to her husband but he did not move on the matter. While he would admit the couple to his home, he had resolved to send no more than was stipulated in the marriage agreement. He was aware that his wife sent gifts periodically, but he had yet to be prevailed upon to add to it. Lydia’s impropriety was something he shared fault in but he could not affirm it with favour.

Mr. Bennet eventually ascertained that the child was healthy and his daughter was well. This information was all he required to return to his library. He was sure that once Lydia was deemed able to travel, she would return, demanding their hospitality. Mary was heading for her instrument when her mother stopped her.

“Jane has written to request you at Woodhaven.”

“Do you not require me here?”

“No, I can do perfectly well without you,” her mother declared.

Mary was surprised. Kitty was often away with her sisters but it was an honour that Mary had not requested or desired. Mary was perplexed, relief from her mother’s company was desirable but to enter back into the company of her sisters, to always be seen as lesser compared to them, did not seem altogether agreeable. There was also the prospect of Edward that Mary had not forgotten.

“Were we not to meet my cousin this month? Aunt Philips has told me so much about him.”

“What is a Mr. Edward Philips to other men? Jane can introduce you to a hundred men of more consequence. Mrs. Philips would want to see her nephew married well but she cannot fault me for wishing the same for my daughters.”

Mary had begun to imagine her cousin as a very handsome and intelligent man, relying solely on her aunt’s descriptions. She was anxious to at least meet him and had begun to imagine herself half in love. It was distressing to see her mother cast aside what moments ago had been a happy prospect.

“I am sure Jane would offer a carriage, but it seems best if you were to join her after Christmas. You can travel with us to Pemberley and then travel with the Bingleys. Miss Bingley will not be married until February, so Jane cannot want you right away.”

To this Mary consented and wrote back to her sister in earnest. She had it on good intelligence that Jane had a handsome pianoforte in her drawing room, intended for guests and relations as Jane herself did not play. She knew as well that Charles had endeavoured to improve his library. He did not often read and when he did, he rarely finished anything, but he was convinced that great houses should have libraries and he would not be deficient. Mary imagined herself happily settled at Woodhaven. She would be able to read and play, dote upon her young nephews, and enjoy different society.

Her letter written, Mary settled in the drawing room and in an act of both benevolence and pride, began to plan matching outfits for her three young nephews. Flattered by the request to join her sister, she wished to recommend herself within her abilities. She had the measurements from previous letters, and with some care given to guessing each boy’s growth, she soon departed for Meryton to purchase the fabric.

Mary was deep in thought as she made her way to the draper. As she passed her aunt’s house, she heard her name called suddenly: Mrs. Philips was at the upper window, “Mary! Mary, please do come in! Edward has come by post this morning. He is anxious to make your acquaintance.”

Mary blushed violently at the thought, fortunately with her bonnet and her aunt’s position above her, her emotions could not be easily discerned. Mary made herself calm as she was let into the house. 

Mrs. Philips was already downstairs and standing beside her nephew. Mary had some vague memories of her cousin from childhood, he had been a thin and solemn child, but the man that stood before her was a great improvement. Edward Philips was tall and well built, his expression betrayed little but his eyes seemed kind. He was well-dressed and had a gentleman-like manner, with more style and sense than his mother ever displayed. Displayed in a room with so little to recommend it, her cousin was at much advantage.

Mary and Edward exchanged the usual greetings, he inquired as to her health and her sisters, she as to his journey.

“I am just now going to visit the draper; I plan to make some clothes for my nephews.”

“I would be happy to escort you.”

Mrs. Philips was all smiles as he led Mary out the door. Mrs. Philips was very comfortable in her position. Her husband did well and her income was just as she had been used to as a child. While Mrs. Bennet had been elevated, Mrs. Philips had been happy to marry her father’s successor and eventually come to live in her childhood home. It was her fondest wish to see Edward settled in the exact manner, with a woman of enough understanding to be useful and to entertain. With three Bennet daughters married and Kitty so often far from home, she had settled on Mary to be the companion of her nephew’s future life. Mary’s relative poverty was not a deterrent to her aunt. She was certain that Edward would do very well for himself.

The walk was long enough for Mary to discern that her cousin was sensible and serious. His apprenticeship had been with a prominent attorney of very good understanding and his education did him credit. Edward had learned for the last several years with Mr. Johnson, in the county of Northamptonshire. He was happy to relate to his cousin some of the more interesting cases that he had been able to aid his mentor in preparing. They stopped together at the door of the drapers.

“You might wonder, cousin Mary, at me going into a clerkship so far from home.”

“Indeed, since you might have stayed here and better learned your uncle’s own practice.”

“I have been taught since I was young in Mr. Philips’s business. I wished to expand my knowledge, of both the law and the world, by finding an apprenticeship elsewhere. I think I was overall correct in my notion, for I learned that people are much the same everywhere. The law is always the law; it is the workings of men that perverts it.”

“This must be very true,” Mary said, in true awe of her cousin’s wisdom.

“I was fortunate in my education to encounter some strange cases as well. One can never have too good of an education I believe. I must tell you, there was a man married not six months and the wife, I cannot call her a lady, she eloped with another man. He was in fact known to the family and from what I have heard, the offending couple lived together for several months. We were instrumental in the husband’s petition to parliament. It is such a rare affair; his divorce was granted very readily. In the end, the aberrant couple did not marry; she lives separated from her family, though I know not how. Mr. Johnson credited some of my writing and research as instrumental to the case. I hardly think I will ever encounter anything like it again and certainly not in Meryton. It was the cause of endless speculation in the papers. You might have heard, the man involved in the affair was prosecuted for criminal conversation and paid a hefty fine.”

“I have never heard of such a thing! One must wonder about the upbringing of the woman,” Mary’s thoughts of course immediately flew to Lydia, though her sister’s elopement was not quite so bad as adultery.

“I must relate that the events led me to great contemplation of the state of women in our society. Indeed, I believe the loss of female integrity to be almost irreversible. Her reputation is no less ephemeral as it is lovely.”

Mary was startled to hear such a revelation so close to her own thinking on the matter. She had come ready to be pleased and found her cousin extremely amiable. She suddenly found herself feeling much like she imagined Kitty or Lydia felt, wondering if she should not have worn her bonnet with blue flowers or a newer dress. It was a turn of feeling that she found interesting and mortifying simultaneously.

It was not in Mary’s power to invite her aunt’s family for dinner. She could not recall which nights they were already engaged for and she was unsure of the propriety. As she bid Edward adieu, she added a warm wish to see him soon. She was certain that Mrs. Philips and her mother would make the necessary arrangements. 

Mary made her purchases and returned home, anticipating future meetings with Mr. Edward Philips and the pleasure of speaking with him again. As she anticipated, the family was engaged several nights for dinner, but her mother was pleased to hear of her returned nephew and planned a small gathering for a few nights hence. Mary found herself thinking of the evening with longing, perhaps she might walk to Meryton sooner and visit her aunt. The idea was very appealing.

Dear Maria,

Your last letter was lovely to read, your son reminds me so much of my nephews. I have such fun playing with Fitz. Elizabeth is to have another soon, so we shall be prevented from another season in London. At first, there was talk that we might be accompanied by the Fitzwilliams or Bingleys, but Georgiana’s aunt has decided to remain in the country for the season and we may stay with her during Elizabeth’s confinement. Jane is to attend here, so we only have the assembly or private balls to look forward to.

Do not think I complain, London was exciting, to be sure, but I cannot say I am disappointed to not return. Georgiana prefers to be at Pemberley and I have joined in her way of thinking. We are frequently dining with the notable families of the area and I have several friends now. I must own that young men have been scarce, but when Elizabeth has returned from Rosings, we shall begin to attend balls in earnest.

Write to me soon,

Your friend, Kitty Bennet

Dear brother,

Allow me to congratulate you on your coming nuptials. I had the full report from our father. I am eager to meet the girl who finally struck your fancy.

As you chose not to either write to me or visit me here in Oxford, I was originally planning to repay the favour by writing an exceedingly short letter. However, as I believe it would be more amusing to force a response in kind, I shall write something much longer. Please find below one of the sermons I had occasion to hear recently on marital felicity, which I took down as I have no experience in the area myself.

….

Allow me to add, now that you have absorbed this sage wisdom, that the orator was indeed never married. Imagine my surprise after I had taken so much trouble to transcribe it!

I will be home in time to meet your intended at Pemberley,

Your affectionate, neglected, little brother,

Henry Fitzwilliam

Chapter 18 – October 1814, Rosings Park

“You must not be too indulgent with him Darcy. A boy must be raised rather carefully. If I was to have had boy, he would have been a fearsome thing to behold, I must think.”

Fitzwilliam paid little mind to his aunt and, nodding to the nursemaid, released his child from the difficulty of a seated dinner after a long journey. Little Fitz had spilled his soup and tried to climb out of his chair before his father caught him. Had Lady Catherine de Bourgh not insisted on dining with them at once, Fitz might have been in better spirits. She was very fond of having the children with her downstairs, which the Darcys attempted to indulge.

“I thought we would see Anne as well,” Elizabeth changed the subject quickly. Mr. and Mrs. Collins were in attendance but Mrs. Jenkinson and Miss Anne de Bourgh had not made an appearance.

“My daughter has been unwell these past few weeks; she has been unable to join us of late.”

“It has been a noticeable detraction from the pleasantness of the evening, my lady.” Mr. Collins spoke quickly, and Elizabeth suspected he had paid the compliment before. Charlotte looked anxious and Elizabeth wished for the meal to end so she could speak with her friend. Anne had often been unwell but seldom had she been absent from company.

“I have received a letter from my brother the Earl, he has told me that his younger son is to be married. Do you know anything of the girl?”

Elizabeth spoke, “You know my sister, Jane. Caroline Bingley is the younger sister of her husband, Charles. She is very accomplished and has twenty thousand pounds.” Elizabeth was blunt in her assessment, as she had learnt to speak to Lady Catherine with matching candour.

“Only twenty? His brother married to a title and a fortune almost twice that. But I suppose you cannot expect the same for a younger brother. I dare say he shall always be the younger now that the Viscount has recovered from his recent illness. I am quite pleased to hear the Colonel will resign his commission; I would not want him called away to war. They have said Napoleon is defeated, but I do not trust it.”

“Indeed,” said Fitzwilliam.

“Where is Georgiana?” Lady Catherine asked, though a letter had already informed her of her niece’s absence.

“My sister, Kitty, was ill, she had to remain at Pemberley with her friend.”

“What a shame, for I know Georgiana loves Rosings. She was very disappointed to be prevented from joining you last year as well.”

Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth shared a quick smile, hidden from Lady Catherine as she spoke to Mr. Collins. Georgiana hated Rosings. She found her aunt’s company distressing. Fitzwilliam insisted on her coming every few years but had been creating excuses for some time. He abhorred falsehoods, but he understood his sister’s discomfort and did not wish to offend his aunt with the truth. Kitty did indeed have a cold, but was in no danger.

Elizabeth smiled through the meal, choosing, for the peace between relations, to not hear what was impolite and respond directly when inquired upon. Lady Catherine spoke the most, to her nephew primarily but she had ample advice for Elizabeth, already a mother, on her current delicate condition. Elizabeth had heard much of it before but kindly gave her thanks.

When the women removed to the drawing room, Elizabeth sought Charlotte directly. Lady Catherine was engaged by Mrs. Jenkinson who seemed to be in a state of agitation.

“What has come of Anne?”

Charlotte wore her concern and answered readily, “She has been very unwell these last few months, more than we have ever seen before. In the summer, we had even spoken of her travelling to London but when Colonel Fitzwilliam came to take her thither, she had already begun to decline. Her mother has carried on as if nothing is the matter, but I have never seen Anne so ill. It has been a fortnight now since we have seen her. I fear her condition has become rather dire.”

“Lady Catherine carries on as before?”

“She appears as she always has. I do not know what to make of it.”

To Elizabeth, Lady Catherine seemed ever the same, but Elizabeth had never known the difficulty of having a child with such a frail constitution. She could not imagine what she would have become if all her hopes rested on such an heir. She stole a glance toward the lady and could see no hint of despair, but she could not help but imagine that it lay beneath her eyes.

“Is young William at home?”

“Yes, we often bring him, at Lady Catherine’s request, but he has a small cold.”

Charlotte was happy to speak of her son and they continued in that enjoyable vein until the men joined them. Elizabeth played and sang for the party. She played no better now than she ever had but everyone was glad to hear her. Mrs. Jenkinson had quitted the room and Lady Catherine did not speak of any news. They played cards before Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam begged to be excused as they were tired after their travel.

Elizabeth walked to the parsonage in the morning and Charlotte was happy as ever to see her. Charlotte, the devoted lady of the parish, had tonics to prepare for the sick and clothes to sew for new children. Elizabeth was happy to assist with the work while they visited and did not leave until propriety demanded she return to Rosings. Lady Catherine would not look well on her niece neglecting her for a meal. There was something of sadness in Charlotte’s manner, but Elizabeth did not dare broach the subject of her mother’s condition and Charlotte did not speak of it herself.

The week was pleasant for the Darcys. Fitzwilliam rode and sought solitude in the library when he was not at the parsonage. Young Fitz and young William, with just a year between them, played happily together and Lady Catherine was mollified by Fitz’s behaviour following the first dinner. Charlotte and Elizabeth went together many times to the houses of this poor soul or that new mother and were delighted in renewing their friendship.

It was on the eighth day of their visit that Anne de Bourgh died. [PG1] 

Chapter 19 – October 1814, Rosings Park

Lady Catherine would not leave her daughter’s room and it was Fitzwilliam who began the preparations and notified Mr. Collins, as the parish rector. Relatives were sent for to carry the coffin and comfort the mother. Mr. Collins, having taken it on Lady Catherine’s word that Anne would be soon to recover, hardly knew what to do. It was Charlotte who began the work and led her husband along. By the end of the first day, Mr. Collins recovered and was able to ensure the solemnity required of such a sad event.

Five men of the family, including Colonel Fitzwilliam and his two brothers, rapidly arrived and it was only a few days before they were conveying the coffin to the church. They walked, Fitzwilliam leading with the Colonel, followed by the whole of the parish, which had been given hats and scarves of black. The pall was richly embroidered. Elizabeth was to learn later had been the work of Mrs. Jenkinson, who watched from a window at Rosings and wept the entire day. Lady Catherine and Mrs. Jenkinson had been anticipating the sad event for some time, though they had not allowed anyone else into their confidence.

Elizabeth was unsure if she should attend the service herself, though she felt she would be able to maintain her composure. Upon hearing that her aunt was determined to attend, she went as well in support. Lady Catherine emerged for the first time Elizabeth had witnessed, dressed entirely in black and veiled. She said not a word as she followed her daughter to the church.

The service did Mr. Collins credit, though Elizabeth could not help but hear Charlotte’s hand in his prepared remarks. Lady Catherine was still and said nothing. Anne was laid to rest in the family crypt near her father. The sight of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, in all her state, standing alone beside her daughter’s crypt was more than Elizabeth could bear and she was forced to excuse herself. Lady Catherine ate alone as the Collinses and Fitzwilliams presided over a dinner for the parish. She could not have chosen a better rector, for he and his wife discharged their duties diligently and it was spoken of for many months in the parish: how grand the funeral had been, how sad the passing of the daughter, and how much they felt for the mother.

Elizabeth herself was sorry for how little she mourned the passing and she knew that her husband shared in her feelings. Anne de Bourgh had never been an object of much affection to either of them. Anne had felt Darcy’s rejection almost as much as her mother and always had treated Elizabeth with the barest, cold civility. Elizabeth had never sought to overcome this particular dislike, since Fitzwilliam had informed her that Anne was cold, insipid, and proud. As much as she could not like Lady Catherine, all of her compassion was for that lady. She was fully able to enter into the feelings of a grieving mother, though she had never experienced such an event herself and was full of solicitude and sympathy.

To support her ladyship, Elizabeth, Fitzwilliam, and the Colonel remained after most of the family removed. Lady Catherine rarely left her room and their collective anxiety for her health prevented any of them from thinking of travelling home. Continually ready to be called upon, the party busied themselves however they could: Elizabeth with Charlotte at the parsonage, and the men with billiards and riding. Both Fitzwilliam and the Colonel met with Lady Catherine several times, but they could not prevail on her to join them for dinner or sit with company for the evening. Mr. Collins was a frequent caller to the lady as well, but his efforts were equally in vain. Elizabeth had not been admitted and would not force herself on anyone.

After nearly three weeks spent in this manner, Elizabeth was walking with Colonel Fitzwilliam in the park. It was a chill day and they had not planned to walk very far. Elizabeth had been long anxious to speak to the Colonel and the events at Rosings had now prevented his visit to Pemberley and the presentation of Caroline to the Earl. 

“I was wondering how much acquainted you were with Miss Bingley before the engagement. I was not certain you had spent so very long in each other’s company,” said she.

“I would not say it was a short courtship, we saw a great deal of each other in London. We have met tolerably often ever since she became friends with Georgiana.”

Elizabeth was anxious to know what had recommended Caroline to her cousin, but she could not attack the subject directly even with such a familiar relation. Caroline remained, to Elizabeth, hardly a friend. She could not forget her actions against Jane’s happiness, no matter how friendly Caroline appeared towards both of them. Elizabeth tolerated Caroline because of her friendship towards Georgiana and her willingness to visit when Elizabeth could not be present. It was hard for her to imagine a man as amiable and intelligent as the Colonel choosing her to be his wife.

“I have known Caroline for four years now and she has been my sister for three. She has indeed been a friend to Georgiana and Jane.”

“It was her kindness to Georgiana that made me think of her. I could not be insensible to it given my position in the family as her guardian. This, however, was not the whole of my attraction; Caroline has many qualities which you must be sensible of.”

“I know that she is accomplished.”

“What young lady is not accomplished? You know my situation; my father has lately been anxious for me to establish myself and Caroline’s lively manners recommended her to me, I am fully aware of her motives, she desires a connection with a man of rank, but I do not doubt her abilities. She has considerable powers of conversation; she is handsome, well-educated, and well-mannered. That my cousin did not like her is his own business.”

At this Elizabeth smiled, for she now discerned that she was the second Darcy to have pursued this line of questioning. That Caroline had been so completely disliked by her husband must have been communicated prior. She felt that if her husband had recently spoken to their cousin, she would have heard of it, she guessed that it must have been a conversation from some time before when Fitzwilliam was residing with the Bingleys.

“I mean no offence. I have no doubt that Caroline will do you credit as a wife. She has ever motive to please.”

“There are not so many women of fortune who would marry a second son with almost no chance of inheritance. I have every reasonable expectation that I will be happy in my choice.”

Elizabeth was sensible to these arguments, for she knew that Colonel Fitzwilliam had once enjoyed her own company but hinted that he could make no intentions upon her with so small a fortune. She was pleased however, that the Colonel at least held Caroline in higher esteem than her friend Charlotte had ever thought of Mr. Collins. A partnership begun on mutual respect could at least have the prospect of future happiness. Elizabeth knew well enough that neither her parents nor the Collinses would never have a relationship of true regard.

“I am sorry this event has caused a long separation from your intended. We had hoped to have you at Pemberley.”

“Lady Catherine hinted, when I was with her last, that she might like to meet Caroline. I had hoped to present her first to my own father, whose manners, as you well know, have everything to recommend them. My aunt-”

“Do not fear dear cousin, her directness was not enough to frighten me. I am certain that Caroline will be equal to it. Perhaps though, when you next write, you might prepare her for the interview.” At this the Colonel smiled and Elizabeth continued, “I am pleased to hear of our aunt’s interest, it might do well for her recovery to have someone new within her circle. If Lady Catherine mentions it again, I beg you to encourage her. I have heard of her in such depressed spirits! I know it has not been so long a time since Anne’s passing, and she must feel it acutely, but it gives me pain to see Lady Catherine so diminished. You have said she seems to hardly have eaten.”

“I have reason to fear for her health.”

“Then it must be attempted. It will do her no good to do nothing but dwell in her sorrow, daily renewed with every remembrance of her daughter and nothing to tempt her away from morbid thoughts. If nothing else, perhaps it will bring her into company for dinner.”

To Colonel Fitzwilliam this was a very agreeable plan, for it would give him the double benefit of seeing Caroline and helping with his aunt’s recovery. He knew that in all likelihood his own wedding would be delayed by the mourning period. This was regretful, but he hardly thought of it while his aunt was in such a precarious state. He was a devoted nephew and knew that his presence must be a comfort to Lady Catherine. While he might not respect her to the same degree as his other relations, he pitied her. To have been disappointed in the hopes of more children, to be widowed at a young age and to raise a daughter with such precarious health was enough for the Colonel to bear her ill-bred manners. His visits, as frequent as Darcy’s, had made him a particular favourite of his aunt, perhaps now the first in her estimation since Darcy had married Elizabeth. His attentions were disinterested, he was naturally generous and bestowed his time to any within his circle who needed particular care. In that way, Elizabeth thought, he was much like her husband.

Elizabeth concluded her walk with a reasonable contentment that Colonel Fitzwilliam would be happy in his choice. Since Caroline had spoken of wanting to settle in London, she imagined the two families visiting each other with some regularity. Elizabeth concluded that the past and its machinations must be forgiven, she did not have the temper to dwell forever on earlier days. After all, could she truly blame a woman for having the hope of an alliance with a man such as Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley? Her mind now at ease in this respect, she had only to think of the great lady of Rosings and her eventual recovery.

Dear mother,

As always, may I first assure you of my continued existence, neither the sea nor the French have succeeded in ending me yet. This letter shall not be long, for I am to sail homewards within a fortnight and if no contrary wind or enemy vessel is against my purpose, I mean to be actually with you before long. This letter goes ahead of me and with all luck, shall announce my arrival. I shall be unsurprised, however, if in the usual way of navy post, you are informed of my coming by the time I am gone again.

Your devoted son,

Captain J. Ramsey

Chapter 20 – November 1814, Woodhaven

Charles was sitting with Jane and Caroline for breakfast when the letter arrived. He saw it was from Colonel Fitzwilliam and thought that the letter would contain an announcement of a visit, but the contents were unexpected. The Colonel related that with Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam being called home on unexpected business; he had thought it only right to remain with his grieving aunt. At Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s entreaty, Caroline, as the Colonel’s future bride, and her brother, and his wife etc. were invited to Rosings Park. The invitation graciously included the two young boys, whom Lady Catherine wished to meet and had no intention of separating from their parents. Charles had never seen Rosings and was anxious to visit. He had heard so many times of Lady Catherine from Elizabeth and had always been curious to meet her.

“We have been invited to Rosings,” he said to the women.

“I cannot help but feel for poor Lady Catherine,” said Jane, with real feeling, “To lose her only child; I could not bear it! How much Elizabeth must feel for her.”

“Are we invited by Lady Catherine or Colonel Fitzwilliam?” Caroline inquired.

“By the nephew, with his aunt’s sanction,” said Charles.

“Oh!” said Jane, “Do you have anything proper to wear, Caroline? I will need to speak with my maid.”

Caroline nodded, “It shall be appropriate I think, to wear black if I am to be a part of the family. But lavender I am sure, or ribbons, will be enough for you.”

Jane agreed and with this consideration, she rose and left the table in order to determine if her mourning garb had survived the changes to her figure. Caroline rose soon after and went to her own room to oversee the packing of her wardrobe.

Charles watched his sister as he announced the news but detected no marked change in her countenance. He was still somewhat concerned about the depth of her attachment. There was no particular warmth in her speech and Charles had not noticed her to seem bereft by the long separation. As a man now happily married, it pained him that his sister might be marrying for nothing but rank and privilege, but he felt he could do nothing to dissuade her against it. After all, Colonel Fitzwilliam was certainly superior to Mr. Hurst!

The request had some urgency and Charles and Jane were quick to make arrangements for their departure. For the comfort of the whole party, it was decided that Charles and Caroline would lead in the small carriage, and Jane would follow with the boys and the proper number of nursemaids in the larger carriage. Caroline readily agreed, for though she doted upon her nephews, the thought of being confined with them for a long journey was not desirable. The party set out early the next morning for it was a journey of at least three days.

Rosings was as beautiful as Jane had often heard it described, as they approached, she easily spied the rectory, exactly where Mr. Collins had often informed them of it. Tired from their journey, they were greeted only briefly by the Colonel, who made all the polite inquiries before he assured them that their presence would not be wanted until the morrow and left them to the comfort of a well-appointed guest wing. His manner was much changed. His aunt did not do well and he was depressed by the circumstances. Charles would relate to Jane, later in their rooms, that he would not have known him.

Caroline was in a much different state of mind. She viewed the house and grounds, so much superior to the estate that Charles had purchased, with awe and delight. This was the family she would be connected to! She would soon call its primary inhabitant her aunt. While she still occasionally reflected upon Elizabeth’s triumph with Darcy with some chagrin, she felt all the power of his cousin’s importance. Elizabeth would no longer move above her in society; they would be brought closer together. If only the Colonel was the eldest son, but one could not wish for everything.

While Charles and Jane dressed with care for the morning introductions, Caroline felt the importance that much more. Her hair was arranged but not well enough for her liking and was done again. Each gown was viewed with strict judgment, and she wore two before settling on a third. A shawl was selected with great care, one she had decorated most beautifully with her own hand but that still had the duller colours of mourning. Her critical eye was finally satisfied, and she joined the party for breakfast with much apprehension.

Lady Catherine was already seated, dressed entirely in black, her face drawn and sallow. Caroline almost doubted for a moment that this could be the formidable Lady of whom she had heard so much. Colonel Fitzwilliam was the one who rose to greet them and bid them sit for the meal. As they ate, he spoke sparingly, and Lady Catherine did not speak at all, except for what propriety demanded. While none of them had met her before, from the reports they heard, it seemed that Lady Catherine was very much affected by the death of her daughter and the Colonel’s insistence that they join him was now well understood.  The desired effect, however, was not achieved. Lady Catherine usually loved company, but even new and interesting faces did not coax her to exert herself.

Lady Catherine excused herself for the morning. Charles, Jane, and Caroline expressed a wish to visit the Collinses and the Colonel was happy to accompany them. They passed Mr. Collins on the way. He wished them good day on his way to visit his patroness, an obligation made only more pressing by her current state. Charlotte greeted them warmly at the door. Her society had been lessened significantly by the withdrawal of Lady Catherine.

“Your sister and Mr. Darcy did everything they could. They stayed for a month and though they made every attempt they were not able to rouse Lady Catherine. I have never seen such a deep despair. My husband attends to her daily, but I do not think much progress has been made.”

“It has only been a few weeks; I am sure she feels the loss very dearly. I cannot imagine.” Jane stopped and looked away. She focused on her own little boys, brought for Charlotte’s admiration, and was nearly brought to tears by their healthy, happy faces.

“It is very like a mother to feel the loss of a child deeply; but we fear that she has become very unwell. We have not been invited for dinner since the event, and Mr. Collins has now seen a marked change in her appearance and health. I have been in her presence but twice and I have never seen a woman so altered.”

“My aunt has always borne the health of my cousin with such fortitude, I must think the rapidity of my cousin’s decline, and the recent hope of her being able to enter society, has been altogether too much for her,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam.

The party from Woodhaven was eager to see the grounds and Charlotte was happy to show them. Caroline took the arm of the Colonel and followed the other three through the garden. Charles was happy to see the couple speaking to each other softly and was further encouraged by seeing Colonel Fitzwilliam brighten during the walk. Charlotte took the opportunity to address Jane.

“How are your mother and father?”

“Both of them are quite well, at least when we last had a letter they were,” said Jane. She did not go further.

“My mother wrote and told me of the expected child, I could not bring myself to discuss it with Elizabeth.”

Jane felt a well of pity, and replied as lightly as she could, “The midwife is pleased with her progression. There is now little doubt beyond the usual that my parents will be blessed with another child. I will own that it is very strange and took us all by surprise.”

Charlotte looked grave but said nothing.

Jane, trying to support her spirits, added, “Mr. Collins wrote to my father that you were in anticipation as well.”

Charlotte blanched and replied quietly, “No, your father was misinformed.”

Jane looked at Charlotte and realized the truth of the matter. There must have been a hope and some end to it. She wished to comfort Charlotte, but as Mrs. Collins did not continue the subject. Jane was forced to follow where she led in conversation. Charlotte began to describe the gardens and grounds. Jane heard nothing more of it during their stay, though she thought that both the loss and her mother’s condition was often on Charlotte’s mind.

That night the party was seated for dinner by Colonel Fitzwilliam. Lady Catherine appeared, much to the gratification of her nephew. For some time, she ate in silence. The small party was unsure how to act and for the first course, no one made a sound.

“Miss Bingley, I know nothing of your family. You must tell me the history of it,” she said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

“My family is from the north, near Newcastle, but we often stayed in London. My brother Charles has purchased an estate near Mr. Darcy, your nephew, in South Yorkshire.”

“Purchased an estate? Who was your father?”

“My father, Charles Bingley, inherited a fortune of nearly one hundred thousand pounds, but could not find an area suited to his tastes.”

“And your grandfather?”

Caroline had not been as prepared as she had imagined for this direct line of questioning and was almost afraid to give her answer, she blushed, “My grandfather-” she stopped.

Charles took the question up and replied easily, “Our grandfather was an astute man of trade and his efforts resulted in our present fortune.”

Lady Catherine looked at Caroline and Jane, and with a raised hand demanded, “You must change places. Nephew, Jane is of a truly ancient line of country gentlemen: how could you make Caroline her superior?”

Caroline blanched, Jane blushed, and Colonel Fitzwilliam looked at a loss, and having no options but to insult his future bride or his future sister, he said nothing and did not move. Caroline, with great self-command, rose, nodded to Jane, and took her lower seat. Jane, still red with embarrassment, took the higher one. 

“There,” Lady Catherine continued, “Colonel Fitzwilliam has already appraised me of your fortune, which is more than acceptable for his state of life, I must observe. And you have another sister?”

“Yes, Mrs. Hurst, she resides in London with her husband.

“You have been well-educated I presume?”

“Yes, at —-, it is a preeminent seminary.”

“Can you play and draw?”

“Yes, pianoforte and I prefer watercolours.”

“I must hear you after dinner. I am a great lover of music, had I ever learned I would have been a great proficient.”

“I am certain, my Lady, that one from such a distinguished family could do nothing less.”

Caroline was astute, and with this sentence greatly pleased Lady Catherine. She turned to Charles next and began to inquire about the estate that he had purchased. He was happy to describe it, with some additions from Jane, and received all of Lady Catherine’s advice with perfect, easy civility. The conversation was long enough that it only ended by the removal of the women to the drawing room. There, Caroline happily took to the pianoforte, where her interrogation was not likely to continue. Lady Catherine expressed pleasure with her playing and the rest of the evening passed without any further indignation. 

Darcy,

I wish that we had come to meet your aunt under more pleasant circumstances as it is hard for me to contain my mirth at her conduct. It is exactly as you have described! She is very taken with Caroline but when she discovered that our grandfather was in trade, she made Caroline change places at the table with Jane, and with the first course out- I have never seen the like! Lady C. is more formidable than my sister, a rare talent. Caroline is equal to it all, however, and bore it with grace.

Jane and the boys do well. It is horrible that you are not still here. We are not called upon often to attend to your aunt. Jane and I have ridden and walked every trail and there are no other diversions to be had. The Colonel is pleasant company when we can have him, but he attends to Lady Catherine and Caroline is often with him. We make the most of our time with Charlotte, as you have done, and the boys play with her son.

My obligations are not my own at present. However, it is my strong inclination to keep our original engagement and see you at Pemberley for Christmas.

Regards, Charles Bingley 

Dearest Jane,

I hope this letter finds you well and comfortable at Rosings Park. Myself and my family do well, the business which brought us home was quickly resolved, but in my current state we were anxious to be at Pemberley. As you recall, Fitz surprised us with an early arrival. I consider myself fixed here until the happy day. The preparations for our Christmas hosting now take up more time than I can often spare! I long to see you here, but if you must remain in Kent, I cannot blame you for it for you undertake what should have been our duty.

I have heard from Mrs. Smith and it does not go well with Lydia. I shall not recount my disappointments here, but as always, if she does write, do not forward her anything. I have a much more faithful report at present.

For the Christmas visit, the Gardiners will arrive first I am sure and then our parents with Mary. Georgiana does love my father and while I will feel your absence most severely, do not think that we cannot muddle through without you. Do write, for I have not heard from Lady Catherine or Charlotte in some time.

Regards, Elizabeth Darcy

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