By Bethany Delleman
Chapter 41 – June 1815, Pemberley
Kitty, who had never in her life had any interest in the news of war or the royal navy, had suddenly become its most enthusiastic student. Captain Ramsey had written twice to Pemberley, both times briefly and addressed to her brother-in-law. He had been assigned to a worthy ship and would be forming part of the blockade of France. There was not much expectation of danger but there was also little opportunity for communication with his friends. While Kitty waited for any word of the Captain’s return, she contented herself with constant perusal of the papers.
Kitty and Georgiana were together in the breakfast parlour when Elizabeth came in, looking distressed and holding a letter.
“We have word of Captain Ramsey,” Elizabeth paused and glanced at the letter she was carrying, attempting perhaps to compose her thoughts, “You must know the Captain lives, but he has been injured. The letter was not written by his hand.”
Kitty turned white with grief and fear, “What has happened?”
“The circumstances are not clear, but a ship attempted to pass the blockade and was attacked by the frigate Captain Ramsey commanded. Before they boarded there was an explosion, and the captain was trapped beneath a large section of spar- a section of mast. We know only that his legs were both broken but have not yet been removed. There is hope enough that he will heal. He has been brought to port and is cared for at a military hospital.”
Kitty could not speak and, beginning to cry, ran from the parlour. Elizabeth wished to follow, but seeing Georgiana rise, felt it right to leave Kitty’s recovery to her dearest friend. Elizabeth had not seen just how pale Georgiana was herself or she might not have left two people so afflicted together. She returned to her husband, as it was to him that the letter had been addressed. He had been the first to read its grim news. He was very concerned about the health of his childhood friend and Elizabeth found him in nearly as great disquiet as her sister.
“One cannot imagine a man, such as him, taking such a dangerous profession. He could have been well settled without any employment; he had enough from his uncle to live comfortably. To lose him at this age and before he has really lived!”
“Perhaps there is some consolation in knowing that he felt it a duty and that he was devoted to it, but I do not know what to say.”
He could not argue with duty. He said only, “If there is any justice in the world, he will live.”
Kitty and Georgiana had very little to say to each other. They both wept over the news and made various attempts to cheer the other, but the thoughts of each were so dire and confused that neither could offer anything near to consolation. They soon emerged to listen to the clearer-headed Elizabeth, who with determined optimism, concluded that they must wait for the next letter.
The only true solace for the Captain’s friends would be in news. Fitzwilliam knew that the Ramsey family had departed with all haste to his side, desirous, because of the reputation of army hospitals to remove him if possible, to a more advantageous situation. There was nothing that Fitzwilliam’s wealth and influence could offer. Captain Ramsey’s family was wealthy enough to secure whatever care their son should need and no amount of money could convince a leg to heal or infection to stop its spread. He already knew that too well.
Word came from Mr. Ramsey, the captain’s father, some days later. He had found his son well enough to be moved to their lodgings in London. There was hope that the Captain would recover without the need of amputation and sanguine feelings that he might, in quite some time, be able to walk. With great comfort, they read that there was not yet any sign of infection or fever, which must be the greatest good they could hope for. While the family had dared to move the Captain to London, they had no intention of trying a longer journey until the bones could mend.
After a week had passed another letter arrived from Mr. Ramsey. His son was materially better, and the surgeon was certain that all danger of infection was passed. He requested, if it might be possible for Fitzwilliam and Georgiana, as particular friends of his son, and anyone else who might make him more easy with company, to come to London if they were able. Mr. Ramsey indicated that he had extended the invitation to each of the five intimate families in Derbyshire. The surgeon had declared that it would be at least two months until the Captain was healed enough to attempt walking and perhaps another month before his removal to his country home would be at all advisable.
Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth were pleased with this plan and could see that both Kitty and Georgiana were anxious to see him. Within the week, with the children safely kept with their nursemaids at Pemberley (for London in June could be no place for a young child) they set out with the intention to stay in town for at least a month. Kitty’s trunk was packed with utmost care by herself, with careful care to select the best dresses and most interesting books that she might read to the patient. Georgiana was no less concerned for her dear friend, but her memories of pleasant times in their youth were stored in her mind and prepared for cheerful conversation.
The party formed in London at the request of the Ramseys was soon a large one. The residents of Pemberley called upon the Ramsey house as soon as they were settled. They found Captain Ramsey in the drawing room carefully moved there to accommodate his preference to see everybody, and they were happy to see him in all ways healthy, except for his damaged limbs. Everyone was eager to hear what had happened yet felt it beyond them to broach the subject. The Captain, to their relief, took it up himself.
“We had been patrolling the coast for some time without any sign of movement from the French or any ships attempting to reach the shores. It was vital that no supplies could reach them and no ships beset our fighting men being conveyed across the channel. It was early in the morning, when we spied a small ship, moving quickly in the early light towards the port. It flew no colours, and we were immediately in pursuit. The cannons were aimed and fired; the principal mast was toppled. There were only two cannons facing us and they must have been poorly manned for we hardly felt a blast. I had given the orders and we prepared to board.
It was only moments before the midshipmen would have descended there was an explosion. Whoever this was who tried to cross our blockade must have been carrying gunpowder because I have never seen the like. We did not see that there was a fire below, but there must have been after our volley. The blast was unlike anything you can imagine, those who were closer to myself some of them have lost their hearing, and I was struck down by the force of it. We lost several men, struck by shards of the ship, or dashed into the water. The section of mast itself flew towards me and I was trapped beneath it.
“I was then at the point of despair, for I knew I had not long before great damage was done to myself. There was such confusion aboard the ship, and it seemed an age before enough men assembled to free me. The first man to see my predicament kept his head, he knew if they tried to push it off my limbs would be destroyed. He roused several men from their shock and while they gave their strength to life the mast, he pulled me from below it. Damaged as the ship was, and wounded as were many of the men, we thought it best not to make for the French shores. My lieutenant bravely set course for England. His courage must have saved us all.”
Captain Ramsey seemed much himself, despite some pain and the difficulty of not being able to move on his own volition. He had more to tell; of fighting on the mainland, but it was not a firsthand account. The party listened with interest and left him, after more than three quarters of an hour, with happy thoughts in each breast. Fitzwilliam and Georgiana were only pleased that their friend might be safe from danger and seeming to recover rapidly, for Georgiana could not yet hope for anything more. Elizabeth was happy to see such a promising young man not in danger. Kitty, whose feelings must be the strongest, was pleased that she had gone so long in his company without blushing more than a few times and entertained happy thoughts of being in his company frequently during their stay. For today, there was no division in her mind. Captain Ramsey was her object, and a heroic one at that.
The friends gathered in London fell into a natural pattern of attention and visits. Kitty and Georgiana often went early to the house and either talked or read with the patient. Fitzwilliam sometimes went alone, and often with Elizabeth, later in the day. Elizabeth would play music and Fitzwilliam had enough to speak of from their long friendship. Often there were larger parties at night, either at the Ramsey’s home, if the Captain was deemed well enough, or at one of the other family’s homes, if he needed rest. Elizabeth was quick to perceive that Mr. Henry Fitzwilliam was among the party, and that his gaze inevitably rested on her sister. Kitty, with every thought leaning towards the captain, hardly seemed to notice. Elizabeth felt for him, but given the circumstances, she did not make her concern known to anyone.
Chapter 42 – June 1815, Brussels
Lydia remained with Eleanor as the entire city changed around them. Gone was the revelry, gone were the men, and everything seemed grey without them. Once or twice, Lydia imagined that she could hear the very guns of war. She gazed out the window, hoping to be warned if the battle would ever come to the city. Colonel Warren’s instructions rang in her head. Eleanor was often in despair, Lydia almost wished she could feel the same. Whatever she had once felt for Wickham had faded away long ago. Lydia realized that her concern for his return was no more than common concern for one’s fellow man. Eleanor cried for love; Lydia only wondered what would come.
“What will I do if he does not return?” Eleanor cried.
“You are young and pretty and you must have something settled on you, you will be married again before long.”
Eleanor broke out of her misery and stared at Lydia with unrestrained wonder, “Are you so unfeeling?”
Lydia could not think of herself as unfeeling. She might not feel what those around her wished that she might. Lydia might acknowledge, on reflection, that she did not feel the weight of propriety that seemed to push upon other and she understood this was uncommon, but she did not think herself hardhearted. One might be frivolous and spendthrift and seldom guilty yet feel other things deeply. Lydia had once felt passionate love for her husband which under the burden of his own indifference had faded to almost nothing. Nothing could cover the wound of his indifference, not when it was daily displayed to her.
“I do not know what to say,” Lydia said, “I did not mean to be cruel. I am sure your husband will return.”
“If he does not, I will be miserable forever,” Eleanor cried.
“If he does not, you will be miserable for some time, but you will recover. We cannot be meant to only love once.”
“How can you be so hopeful?”
Lydia said to herself, “Because he does not love me,” she held her tongue. “Because I must, we are not married into the army to despair at any sign of danger. We wives of officers must be made of sterner material.”
As the day wore on, and the night, wounded soldiers began to return and fill the streets. Eleanor could not help but descend and beg for news. Lydia accompanied her for a few moments before the scene before her became overwhelming and she escaped to her own home. She could not bear the wounded and weeping. She stayed inside, knowing that she was the same coward as her husband and not caring who might discover her to be so. Lydia watched and waited, scarcely knowing if she ate or drank, slept, or rested. The tenor of the passing crowds outside began to change and Lydia came to understand that there was nothing more to fear, they had won. They only waited to know who might not return.
Yet even now that real danger had passed, Lydia could not bring herself to approach a window or go outside. She could hear screaming from the street and she knew the wounded were being brought into the city. It was not her husband whose safe return she wished for when she spoke into the empty house, it was Eleanor’s, when she was feeling benevolent, and Colonel Warren when she thought only of herself.
Lydia imagined two paths before her, one was what she had known for the last three years, a life of inconstancy and triviality, superficial happiness without any true centre of stability. It had not been completely empty, she had forgotten her sorrow on occasion, especially during the last few months, but all of it paled in comparison to the other future. If her husband did not return, if she could be free, was it possible that Warren loved her? She might start anew, at only just twenty. But it was too much to hope and to terrible to hope for.
The various noises were focused into one sound, a man must be in front of her door, being nursed or treated there. Lydia trembled as she heard it and finally looked out the window. There was a carriage and a surgeon, a soldier near death. Lydia called for her girl and they scoured the house for any linens and ripped them into bandages. While she could not bring herself to go out, Lydia sent the cloth out with her maid and was rewarded in time by the sounds dying away. She could not bring herself back to the window, to learn if death or recovery had quieted the soldier’s voice.
There was a knock at the door some time later and Lydia stood in the parlour as the maid went down. It was not Captain George Wickham who was admitted into her presence, it was not her husband who returned to her, it was Colonel John Warren. He was carrying a bloodied and torn red coat. She held it as he said words that she had half hoped and half dreaded to hear, Wickham was dead. She would not even have her chance to look upon his face for the last time. He was already buried; one of so many officers fallen. Lydia did not cry; she did not make a sound. The words of explanation and condolence ceased, and she only could stare at the coat in silence.
He said, “You are shocked, and I would not deny you any delicacy of feeling. I must, however, speak to you now, for I am to return to the front and chase the French army to Paris.”
Lydia made no sound to stop him.
“Lydia,” he said, and she looked up at him. He had never said her name, “I have promised your husband that I would take you under my protection if anything were to happen to him. It was not a promise I made without motive, for I have been in love with you this last six months at least. How long have I wanted to free you from- but I will not speak ill of the dead. Say only that you will marry me, and I promise that you will never be in want again, not of money or affection.”
“You want to marry me?” Lydia whispered, “Why?”
“I love you; I need you. I have order and perfection enough in my profession, but with you there is liveliness and joy. Let me have a share in your boundless cheerfulness.”
“Yes, I will,” she said softly.
“I know that it would be proper to wait, and if the circumstances were different, I would not press you, but if we marry in haste- I can protect you now and see you safely back to England. If you wish to wait for mourning-”
“No,” Lydia stopped him. She wanted to leave, to escape every memory of her former life. Besides this consideration, to return home and live again under the protection and stricter notice of her father was abhorrent to her. Whatever else she might feel she was more than resolved on this point, “If you wish it, we might be wed today.”
The joy that he felt and showed was enough that Lydia must have felt something like gratitude, if she had not been numb to feel anything. He spoke quickly, “There is too much to do for today, but I will return when I can. Today shall be my making, if I have not made myself already. I shall have my promotion and wealth besides. And I offer it all to you.”
Lydia would have offered her hand if it did not still hold the bloody coat. She offered instead her wishes for his safe return and he was gone again as rapidly as he had appeared. She went to her trunk, tore a sheet from her bed, and wrapped it lovingly around the final piece of her husband. She stowed the token in the bottom of the chest. Then she collapsed on the floor and wept bitterly.
Dear Elizabeth,
Is there still no word from Lydia? I am very nervous about her, and you know that cannot be good for me, in this delicate state and with young Lewis to care for. I have been preparing, you know, since Lydia was married to a man in the regulars, for this sort of danger. Now that it has arrived, I am not equal to it. We hear news from everyone else, you know we have several young men from Meryton in the regulars. Those who have not yet returned send letters. Does your husband have no influence in the army? I cannot live without word from darling Lydia!
I must attend to little Lewis; he is my consolation in this frightening time. My nerves have been very affected,
Your loving mother etc.
Dearest Jane,
Have you any word from Lydia? I do not know if our mother has written to you, but there has been no letter even to Kitty for three weeks now. I would have expected her want of funds at least to make her take up the pen. Write to me as soon as you can. If we have no word, I feel we must take the matter to Fitzwilliam’s friends in the army.
I pray that nothing untoward has happened to our sister.
Elizabeth Darcy
Chapter 43 – July 1815, London
The initial month of the Darcys’ stay in London passed quickly, for company was frequent and everyone seemed determined to appear as cheerful as possible for their friend and each other. July, though, brought a material change in the hopes of Captain Ramsey himself. The bone setter and surgeon, who had consulted together, had become very troubled by the healing of one leg. The Captain was young and expected to heal quickly, but though every precaution had been taken in the setting, there might have been too much injury for the bone to ever properly recover. What this might result in was discussed in low tones between the friends. The healers were still convinced that he might walk, but with a limp certainly, and perhaps with a pain that might never resolve.
The change in Captain Ramsey was immediate and great. For more than a week he denied all company and when the Darcy family was admitted again, they found him sullen and angry. He seemed disgusted by their attempts to entertain and console him and denied any suggestion that his recovery might not be complete. When Kitty and Georgiana came one morning to read to him, he scolded Kitty for missing a line and told Georgiana, who had moved to the instrument, that she played overly loud. It was all Kitty could do to retain her composure, so piercing was the reprimand, that she was forced to apologize and end their visit earlier than intended. When she returned two days later with Elizabeth, Captain Ramsey had no apology or inquiry after her longer absence; indeed, he scarcely seemed to notice her presence.
Kitty was not without reason and knew that Captain Ramsey must be suffering under a great deal of disappointment. She knew in her heart that his anger was not for her, but a directionless fury that railed against the people in his presence but it did not make the pain less persistent in her heart. The change in his temper seemed to her sudden and frightening. Their relatively brief acquaintance made all his appearances before suspect if such resentment could mark his countenance now.
Duty demanded that the party continue in their visits and the next week was to bring the next stage of the Captain’s recovery. Assisted by his friends or manservant, walking was attempted. The first few attempts were disastrous and difficult. He pressed on, determined that he might recover what he had lost; but it was not to be. Weeks would pass without much improvement. Irreparable damage had been done and it became clearer with each passing day that Captain Ramsey would never walk without a limp or the assistance of a cane. He would never be able to return to active duty.
By this time, Elizabeth had become anxious to return to her children at Pemberley or have them brought to join them. It was now nearly August, and she felt the separation dearly. Kitty, who had tried in vain to recover the man she admired, was too disappointed in the character of Captain Ramsey to recover her regard for him. He seemed to her now much like her father, hurting others without a thought. She wished to forgive his temper or see him one day restored to his former happiness, but it was too painful to see him for the present. She promised herself that it was not dereliction of duty; if he had made an offer she would have stayed forever.
Elizabeth found Kitty one evening alone and said, “It is my intention to return to Pemberley, but you may remain as long as you think proper.”
Kitty was oppressed, “Do you think me inconstant? For I wish to go as well.”
“There has been nothing in your behaviour that has been improper or deceptive. I have always firmly believed that a woman needs to know the entire character of her chosen partner before she would think to accept him.”
“Is it entirely fair of me to think poorly of a person in such distressed circumstances? He has lost a great deal.”
“You have done all that you can as a friend, and I know that if you had committed yourself that you would stay, would you not?”
“Yes, I must have.”
“I understand his disappointment, but none of us can help someone beyond our own strength. He has friends enough to share the burden.”
Kitty’s mind flew to her rash action and she blushed, “What if I felt that I was obligated?”
Elizabeth looked at her curiously, “It is, in the end, the right of the man to ask, the woman can only refuse. You would have told me if he offered?”
“Of course.”
“I can imagine that you might have said something that was beyond the bounds of normal propriety when the Captain left for war. It is common enough for strong emotions to overtake the mind in a situation such as that,” Elizabeth saw that she had struck the truth. She continued, “Do not tell me, it is in the past now. If he does not hold you to any obligation then do not think of it now.”
“Then I shall go with you,” Kitty decided. And with that, it was resolved that Elizabeth and Kitty would return to Derbyshire and that Fitzwilliam and Georgiana would remain. If this suited Georgiana quite well, no one perceived her pleasure.
Chapter 44 – August 1815, Pemberley
Elizabeth was out of doors with the children, Lavinia and George were both laid upon a blanket, George asleep and little Lavinia trying her best to reach his small fingers. Little Fitz was determined to find frogs at the stream’s bank and Elizabeth was attempting to keep him from the dirt. His clothes and shoes were already so soiled that Elizabeth wondered at her effort, but his peals of laughter kept her at her task. He suddenly, with delight, spotted a small frog and would have toppled into the stream if his mother had not caught his shirt. The animal escaped and Elizabeth finally put an end to the game and sent him to find some sticks to serve as toys some distance from the water.
She sat happily beside the infants and was fastidiously checking her bonnet and skirts for mud when she perceived her oldest friend walking towards her. She was at once surprised and confused, for she recalled no letter from Charlotte and no plans for visiting, but as her society had been so small of late that she was more than pleased to see her. She rose, and leaving the children to the care of their maids, went towards Charlotte. As she approached, she began to perceive that her friend was very pale, oppressed by something, and seemed so agitated that Elizabeth wondered whatever could be the matter. It took at least three days to travel from Kent, and two from Hertfordshire if Charlotte had been with her parents. What could keep her in an agitated state for so long a journey?
They both stopped within an easy distance of each other and Elizabeth, though curious now as to her friend’s displeasure, made the usual inquiries.
“I cannot say how Mr. Collins does,” Charlotte spoke curtly, “I left him over a month ago. I have been with my family.”
“Do you have news from Hertfordshire? Is someone ill? Has there been some accident?”
“No, no, I come bearing no ill news. I have met your brother.”
“Oh, I have not had the pleasure, as you know, but you have read my letters. My mother means to come soon with the boy, but you know it is difficult on her nerves the first year with a child. She always suffers a great deal of nervous complaints.”
“She seemed very well. Young Lewis is a strong child I must say. My family I left well, two days ago.”
Elizabeth did not respond for now she was at a loss to explain her friend’s appearance and arrival. Only grave news, surely, could give the strangeness of her coming justification. They stood for some time in silence before Elizabeth, pitying her friend’s hesitance, tried another topic.
“How is young William?”
“He is exceedingly well; he is with my parents.”
“He must be intelligible by now, I can hardly understand what Fitz says, I catch barely one word in six.”
“Yes, he will talk forever if allowed.”
Elizabeth, finding no encouragement, let the subject drop and regarded her friend with open curiosity. Charlotte stood awkwardly, plucking at her sash and unable to meet her friend’s gaze. They stood for some time in this stupid manner before Charlotte at last found her strength to speak.
“I can no longer remain at home, Elizabeth, I do not know my boldness in coming here, for I know that you had told me your mind years ago. That you had more wisdom than me is now clear. I am in such distress. I have so few friends and Mr. Collins is unwilling to be away from Kent for long visits to my family. You know that Lady Catherine has taken Colonel Fitzwilliam and his wife into her care, she, Mrs. de Bourgh, has no use for us. We are called upon only once or twice a month. That I would feel the loss of that society I never suspected.”
Charlotte now paused, and Elizabeth knew her to be very near weeping. She seemed hardly able to stand and Elizabeth, with pity, led her to a bench nearby. Elizabeth left her friend to recover and continue.
“I have suffered dear friend, and not told you, three losses. I had gone to visit my family in hope of a newly discovered happiness, but five days past I became aware of a further disappointment. I could not face my family; I left directly after my recovery. I have not told my husband. He was injudicious last time and I faced so many questions. Lady Catherine was sure she knew the cause, that it must have been my walking too far or eating this or that, she was most assured of.”
“Oh Charlotte, had I but known! When I last left you, I did not think you so unhappy.”
“It has come slowly, I believe, and each addition was not felt so strongly until I was halfway through. Your mother’s condition, I must be frank, was the beginning of my melancholy. I cannot resent what has happened, but I much desired to be sometime settled in Hertfordshire.”
Elizabeth could not doubt this assertion and with all kindness replied, “I cannot blame you for wishing to be back among your family, that is only a most natural feeling.” She chose, in charity, not to mention that Charlotte’s return to Hertfordshire might only be achieved by the displacement of her own family. Elizabeth was not her mother; she felt no resentment towards her friend for pursuing Mr. Collins, at least not anymore.
“I know not what to do. We have tried all our connections for some other situation. We have a comfortable home to be sure, but I am lonely. I have- regret.”
Elizabeth hardly knew what to do in the face of such misery. That Charlotte must return to Kent was certain. Elizabeth felt she had no power to offer her friend anything, for she did all that she could in writing and yearly visits. Thinking suddenly in another vein, she offered her friend the only consolation she could imagine.
“Charlotte, I must tell you, now that I have seen what the world is beyond the confines of Meryton, I have a different view of the past. I think in some ways I was mistaken; you made the choice that I should have taken. Were it not for the chance of Netherfield being let- when I reflect on it, I would have done well to accept my cousin.”
“But you have always hated him.”
“It is only now that I truly see how dire my situation was, the motives of my mother, however misguided, I now see them in a different light. To be one of five daughters, with no fortune and no real connections, with a father who never sought to increase our chances beyond our mean prospects. You and I, Charlotte, we faced the same choice, but you might have made the wiser decision.”
Elizabeth could see that her words had the desired effect. Charlotte clasped her hand and gave a small smile, “I have, I fear, imposed on your hospitality.”
“You are always most welcome here, dear Charlotte. I will have Mrs. Reynolds prepare you a room.”
Elizabeth, taking her friend in arm, lead her towards the children and both were warmed by the curiosity and playfulness before them. Elizabeth was left in silence to reflect upon her own thoughts, which against her usual nature were focused now on the past. She had not spoken untruthfully to Charlotte, in her efforts to find Kitty a suitable match she had often thought of that time, when Mr. Collins and Mr. Darcy had come to Longbourn, and of the impossibility of her eventual engagement to her husband. Elizabeth knew that if she was to make the choice again, a thousand times over, she would still refuse him. She would rather live as an old maid than accept a man she did not respect. She did, however, completely understand her friend. She finally saw her choice in a rational way that she might have those years ago. For there are indeed more deserving women in the world than sensible men of fortune and to be fixed as a dependent relative for the remainder of one’s life was easily understood as a mortification.
Charlotte was persuaded to stay and refresh herself for some time with Elizabeth, and despite some feeling of the distance of her son, she improved in spirit dramatically. Elizabeth was glad of the company. She could speak to Charlotte with a level of unreserve that she felt only among Jane and Mrs. Gardiner. Elizabeth only wished that there was something more that she could do for her friend.
Dearest Elizabeth,
No, we have heard nothing from Lydia. Charles reminds me that negotiations continue on the continent, but can you remember a time since her marriage when we have gone so very long without a request for funds? I am beginning to worry. I have written but I do not know if my letter was received. There is still a great deal of confusion.
I am feeling very well otherwise and we shall be leaving Rosings soon for home. I will count on seeing you very soon. Colonel and Mrs. dB seem very happily settled, but I shall not write everything that I feel. It is better to speak in person.
With love etc.
Jane Bennet
Mr. Bennet,
There is no better information here than in Hertfordshire. I have seen nothing in the papers and we have heard nothing from Lydia herself. The streets are swelled with fighting men returning home, but I have seen nothing of Wickham. If there is any news, I shall write to you immediately.
I can only hope my niece is safe.
Edw. Gardiner
Chapter 45 – August 1815, London
Georgiana left the crowded drawing room one morning at the Ramsey’s house and went into the small garden. She had brought her pencils and was capturing the likeness of a cluster of flowers when she heard footsteps approaching. It was the Captain, accompanied by a servant. Georgiana smiled as he sat down near her.
“It is a poor garden to sketch,” said he, “nothing compared to the country.”
“There is beauty to be found everywhere, even in London.”
“I cannot share in your opinion; London is filthy and loud.”
Georgiana continued to draw, “If I always waited for the most perfect prospect to draw, I would never draw anything. These flowers are nothing to the breathtaking prospects at Box Hill or the Peak District, but I can still find beauty and inspiration in them.”
“It must be a rare talent, to appreciate such a poor imitation of nature.”
Georgiana blushed and finishing, set down her pencil, “I saw a painting once of a pair of old boots, caked in soil and worn from use. It struck me as incomparably beautiful. Not that the boots were anything extraordinary in themselves, but that the artist had put them to canvas and by doing so raised them to notice. It reminds me to find something wonderful wherever I look.”
“If only it were so simple.”
“It is far from simple; it is a labour of mind. It is far easier to be awed by grand sights. When that door is not open to me, I find something else.”
“What if the door was never open again?” said he.
Georgiana could hear his pain, “I think sometimes that if I lost the skill of my hands, I might find another way to love art. I’ve drawn ever since I was a little girl. To have it taken from me; it would be a blow. But then, there is more to life than drawing.”
“Is there really more?”
“Friends and family, music, travelling. But I cannot help remembering when my father died and the whole world seemed blank and dull. It was months before I could draw again, or even wanted to.”
“That is more reasonable, you lost your father,” said he.
“There is no accounting for grief. Some say my brother should have rejoiced to see his inheritance so early, but he could not have felt the loss more dearly. It can only be natural to mourn for someone or something that is lost forever.”
“Will you tell me now that I should be happy to have my life?”
Georgiana shook her head, “No, I would never. Even when we were children you wanted to be at sea, it was all you ever wanted. I have never faced that sort of loss, but I have feared it.”
“Do you?”
Georgiana could not lift her eyes, “Yes, there was a day in March.”
If she would have lifted her eyes, Georgiana would have seen his realization and hope. He had misunderstood her when she left him alone with Kitty; he had thought that she did not care for him. Now he saw her staying in London in a different light, it was not merely the duty of a friend.
“I am sorry,” he said, “that I have not been myself.”
“I understand.”
“When I return to Derbyshire next week, I will need to seek out some old boots and try to find something to admire in them.”
“You are leaving London?”
“Yes, you would have heard if you had not slipped away.”
“I prefer a garden to a drawing room.”
“And I prefer a ship, but if you can find solace in this paltry garden, maybe I can settle for a lake.”
“Or a cottage by the sea?”
He smiled and rose with difficulty, “May I accompany you back inside?” She accepted and they walked in together. Georgiana was aware that of the two, she was the one offering support, but she did not mind bearing the burden.
Chapter 46 – August 1815, Pemberley
Upon his arrival home, Fitzwilliam was appraised of Charlotte’s situation, and he repeated an earnest invitation that she stay as long as she liked to recover. Charlotte Collins had been, since her marriage to Mr. Collins, one of Fitzwilliam’s happiest respites from his visits to his aunt. While her husband was certainly irksome, she was rational and intelligent. Her interest in her small farm was one subject in which they could always find a common ground. Fitzwilliam had not imagined that his aunt could become more difficult but since the birth of his first child she had become even more overbearing in her opinions. He only hoped, for his cousin’s sake, that she might change in his constant company, but he had little hope of it.
“There is something we can do for your friend,” Fitzwilliam said, a week after Charlotte’s arrival, “I would not act however, without your consent.”
“It is in your nature to contrive great acts of goodness for your friends and family, why would I protest?” Elizabeth asked.
“I have no interest in Hertfordshire, but I have been holding a living nearby for some time. If Charlotte could convince her husband to take up residence, she might be happier.”
“Why would I object to such an excellent plan?”
“You must tell me that Charlotte will not be insulted by the offer, it is a very small parish, no more than fifty pounds a year, though capable of some improvement.”
Elizabeth shook her head, “I think she would see it as a great act of charity.”
“For all your cousin’s faults, he is attentive to his parish. The community could not have a better woman that Charlotte to care for the poor and sick. With such a small income, it would be difficult to find anyone else willing to reside there.”
“I hope that among us Charlotte might be truly content,” Elizabeth said, “Is the garden in very bad condition? I must hope that it is hardly anything but brambles and weeds.”
“The previous inhabitant was nearly eighty. He had scarcely stirred from his parsonage in the last ten years and had not attended to the garden for at least another twenty years prior. I can assure you it is in a horrid state. As for the house, I have already begun a few improvements, but I am certain that Charlotte and her husband will want to oversee it all. I have spoken to her of a few plans for better breeding in her hens.”
“You are too good,” then Elizabeth gave a small laugh, “I suppose I must write to my father, he predicted that your patronage was more valuable than Lady Catherine’s. I never quite supposed that to be true.”
“I do not have an endless supply of livings to bestow; I do hope that you have no other relations or friends in need of great assistance.”
“Mary is soon to be wed, and I must think that Kitty will have an offer soon enough, I cannot think of anyone else.”
“I do not know how I shall fill my time,” said he with a smile.
“I always have a few suggestions,” she replied, “but speak to Mr. Collins first, if he will not consent there is not reason to raise my friend’s hopes in vain.”
It was to Charlotte’s great surprise when Mr. Collins himself arrived; it was nearly the end of her stay. Charlotte thought he was only come to accompany her back to Kent. This, however, was not the object of his visit. He had been impressed upon, by both a letter from Fitzwilliam and the entreaty of Colonel de Bourgh, whose dislike of Mr. Collins overwhelmed his appreciation of Charlotte, to consider accepting the living in Derbyshire. He had come to inspect the property and make his final decision.
The joy on Charlotte’s face was all that Elizabeth could have wished for. By the end of the week everything was settled. The Collins would take up residence only ten miles away and for the sake of his wife, Elizabeth would endure her cousin.
Dear Cousin,
If I might ask a favour, my family is anxious for news of Captain Wickham and his wife. We have not had a letter since June. If there is anything that you might find out, we would be grateful. I do not know what contacts you retain in the army, but anything that you might be able to learn would greatly ease our anxiety. As far as I can tell, Wickham is not among those reported either dead or missing.
Thank you for helping convince Mr. Collins to come to Derbyshire. I hope you do not mourn the departure of Mrs. Collins too much. We will come to Rosings Park for our usual yearly visit soon.
Kind regards, Elizabeth Darcy
Kitty,
I have only just received your letter; we are no longer in Belgium! Please let mamma and our sisters know that I am safe and well. I am in Paris now, but I have little time to write. Do not count on my return until at least November, for there is still much to be done I am told. I cannot tell you what! I have such a great secret but I will not tell you now. It will be better in person.
Lydia W.
Chapter 47 – September 1815, Pemberley
Elizabeth was now at leisure to turn her mind back to her two unmarried sisters and she had no scruples in arranging parties that included the two young men she had the most hope for. It was a very pleasant September, there was less than the usual amount of rain and more than usual warm days. Elizabeth was glad of it for more reasons than one, she had by now regained much of her former vigour and felt that the warm weather in the fall was some consolation for her loss of the beauty of spring. She walked her favourite paths with renewed delight and happily arranged for many meetings between the families of the area. Elizabeth’s former expectations however, of a marriage between Kitty and Captain Ramsey were nearly at an end, as her sister now seemed to have a clear preference for Henry Fitzwilliam. As for the Captain, he was as healed as he might ever be, still dependent on a crutch or cane, depending on the length of the planned exertion.
His mood was somewhat improved and Georgiana seemed to be his greatest consolation. She often found her way to his side, speaking in low tones and coaxing him back into happy manners. Elizabeth began to notice that his eyes would search for her, when he entered a room, and that Georgiana often placed herself beside an empty chair. Georgiana took it upon herself to walk with him when they ventured out as a party, often falling behind or turning back early in consideration of his abilities.
Elizabeth saw enough to mention the possibility of an attachment to her husband. He was surprised, for it had to him seemed only the work of a caring friend, but he had nothing against such an attachment now. Captain Ramsey had an estate, though small, and enough fortune made in his career to be an equal match for Georgiana. It was certain, in his mind, that she might aim higher, and perhaps a former version of himself might have demanded it. Now, however, he only wished his sister happily settled.
When one of these dinners was over and the men came into the drawing room, Henry was quick to find a place near Kitty and the conversation soon moved to what novels she had been reading.
“Georgiana and I only just finished reading Waverly, and now there is a new novel by the same author, but my sister has taken it herself and we must wait.”
“How abominable!” he cried, “How shall you bear it?”
Kitty giggled, “It is not so very bad; he is not my favourite author. You know there is to be a new publication by A Lady? I hope we can read it out loud together.”
“I cannot imagine a more pleasant way to spend an evening.”
“Nor I, to be sure. If it is between reading, cards, and music, I greatly prefer reading to anything else. Especially if there is a very good reader to be found,” Kitty said.
“Reading is an oft-neglected skill unfortunately, even among those of my profession. It is all I can do to keep my parishioners awake.”
“Oh no! I cannot think so; you read so well!” Kitty blushed and lowered her voice, “I do not think that anyone was asleep when I attended the services in your parish.”
“You are very kind, but my own father was almost asleep beside you one Sunday.”
“Did he? Well he must have been tired. It could not have been on your account. No. I wish you had stayed longer in London; we were reading A Midsummer Night’s Dream with the Captain and you would have made the best Demetrius. I was reading Hermia.” Kitty realized her mistake as soon as she saw his face change and she exclaimed, “No! No, I was Helena! I cannot keep the names straight for anything. Georgiana was reading Hermia to the Captain’s Lysander; I was reading Helena. Helena loves Demetrius.”
“Who was reading Demetrius?”
Kitty was still flustered, “Oh, well, Elizabeth. There were not enough men for the parts. I-” Kitty felt that she might have said too much or too little or made a mistake she could not correct. She could not think of anything more clever to say than, “Have you ever seen the play?”
“Yes, I have watched it in London. Do not feel badly for your confusion, it is difficult to tell who loves who and when in that play.”
“Yes, it’s rather silly is it not?”
“All of Shakespeare’s works have portions that are true to life,” he said, “which is why we still read them.”
“But there are fairies and a man with a donkey head, it is just all nonsense. But I do like it, I prefer a comedy to a tragedy; I would rather have a wedding at the end,” Kitty felt like she was only doing worse, so she rose abruptly, “I think I will play, Georgiana, would you like to sing?”
Georgiana started, looked at her friend, and said, “No, but do play, we could all do with some music.”
As her cousin watched after her friend, Georgiana took pity on him and turning away from Captain Ramsey, she said, “Do you not think Kitty plays very well?”
“Yes, she has not your skill but her easy manner makes even a simpler song pleasing.”
“Why did you not offer to turn the pages for her?”
He did not reply.
Georgiana smiled, “Do not mistake artlessness for indifference, not all women are accomplished in flirtation.” Her cousin did not reply, but joined Kitty at the pianoforte. Having done her good work, Georgiana turned back to the object of her affection and wondered for a moment if she was any more skilful than her friend at flirtation. Fortunately for her, there is much that can be done with only a warm smile.
Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy,
I wish to extend my warmest gratitude for your, and Mr. Darcy’s, extremely generous gift. I do not mean that it is beyond discretion, you have always shown most appreciated kindness towards me, yet I cannot contain properly my excitement. Edward sends his warmest thanks as well. I shall allay your concern: all of the music you copied and sent is new to my collection When next you visit; I hope that you will bring honour to your own present by choosing to play for us from your selections.
I do believe that I have discovered perfect marital felicity. I know that the events of the past few months have prevented you from meeting my esteemed husband but let me assure you that he is everything I might have wished for. Seeing our mother’s pleasure at me being settled in Meryton has done away with my final doubts. She has been our first and most frequent visitor. Father, I know, is happy in his own way.
Mrs. Mary Philips
Dear Jane,
I am delighted with your happy news! We shall be in confinement at near the same time, which is a pity for I would have hoped to have you with me, as the most accomplished mother between my two sisters. Lady Catherine is making more preparations than I think entirely necessary, but my dear husband is managing her excesses. It has been a long time since there was a birth at Rosings!
I am sorry, dear sister, that the Darcys have offered that disagreeable man Collins a living near your home. If I were you, I would avoid him whenever possible. Charlotte is a dear friend, but even for her sake I could not withstand the obsequiousness of the husband. He is, however, your cousin so I suppose there will never be any getting away entirely. We are glad to have him gone. I am only happy that my aunt has not objected. Again, you must thank my husband.
Felicitations, and I hope to see you again soon, perhaps in London,
Mrs. Caroline de Bourgh
Chapter 48 – September 1815, Pemberley
Georgiana had indeed decided that Captain Ramsey would be the most suitable partner for her future life. Captain Ramsey’s disappointment and moods did not frighten her, as he did not direct any anger at herself. Her brother had gone through a similar grief at the death of their father, but Georgiana had found herself unable to offer much service, being in a similar state herself. She was unused to feeling useful and found it gratifying. She was used to being an object of attention but not a person to be relied on, indeed she was often the one relying on others. She had only one doubt and that was a fracture between herself and Kitty. She had not yet dared to broach the topic.
“What do you think of my cousin?” Georgiana asked one morning, as she and Kitty set out to walk along the shrubbery.
“He is a very kind man, devoted to his parish, I must say I hold him in high esteem,” Kitty said, with a faint blush.
“You ought to; he is only a few years older than myself, and we were often in each other’s company growing up. He has ever been what he is now: particularly suited for the profession he was destined for.”
“I did not think, at first, that he was very amiable, but it is certain that he improves on acquaintance. He is not easy with people when he first meets them, I think.”
“Undoubtably a family trait,” Georgiana observed seriously, “but perhaps not such a grave one.”
Kitty was silent for a moment, considering what she might say, “You are the only one who knows the whole of it, Georgiana, do you think me terrible?”
“Oh Kitty, what woman could not offer kindness to a friend going to such an uncertain fate? Your intimacy with the Captain did not rise, I think, to the level of attachment. You were never insensible of others in his presence, nor did he seem to regard you with partiality. There are, I daresay, those who might assume an attachment on half the attention that you paid him, but the wishes of such idle persons do not bind the subjects of their suppositions by honour.”
“My mother would have ordered the wedding clothes if she were present for my time at your uncle’s home this spring.”
“It is fortunate, then, that she was at Longbourn. What possible profit can there be in pushing young men towards whatever young woman happens to catch their eye? Often without thought towards their future happiness beyond their income! Now that you might properly judge the temperament of each person from a longer time in company with them, you must be able to make a more rational choice.”
“Have you been speaking with Elizabeth?” Kitty asked wryly.
Georgiana blushed, “Besides yourself, she is the only other person I trust with these matters.”
They heard the sound of a carriage and made their way to the front of the house. There was a small party planned for the day. Georgiana smiled and approached, for she knew it was the Captain’s own. He greeted both of them warmly, and then asked to speak to Kitty. Georgiana removed some distance to a bench and pretended to observe the trees.
“I have been meaning to give my thanks,” said he, “for your kindness to myself during my time in London and before. This belongs to you.” He was holding in his hand Kitty’s handkerchief, which she knew must contain the lock of hair. She took it.
“I would have done the same for any friend,” she assured him with a faint smile. He seemed much more pleased than she was, and the three of them entered the house to wait for the remainder of the party. Kitty at first thought it something strange that Captain Ramsey had arrived so much earlier than she expected and guessed that he might be present with them for nearly an hour before the rest of the party arrived. Suddenly, it occurred to her that such a conversation with Georgiana only moments before the arrival of the Captain could not have been accidental and contriving some reason to be elsewhere in the house, she left the pair in the sitting room.
Georgiana watched Kitty go with a thrill of anticipation. For several minutes, no one spoke.
“Georgiana,” he said, “I cannot say how long I have considered you the only star in a very dark sky, but now that I can see all the constellations again, you remain the brightest point. I think it almost too great a presumption to ask for your hand, but I must know if you will accept me. I do not want to spend any more of my life without you.”
Georgiana could not help but blush scarlet, but she said exactly what she ought, for a lady always does. When she had reason enough to think of it, she ran out to find her friend and told her of the engagement, “Kitty I do not think I can be any more happy! James had thought, for some time, that your affections had turned, but he felt that he must have an assurance of the end of his obligation to you.”
“Please believe me dear friend, that I only have the fondest wishes for the both of you.”
“I was foolish, it was not until his affections seemed gained by yourself that I began to think that he might be the most proper of my friends to be the object of my own feelings. I feel so blind, I did not know my own affections until he seemed lost to me forever. But I never would have acted in a way that hurt our friendship!”
Kitty accepted these sentiments with all the true happiness that she felt for her friend. Without much time before more company and obligation would arise, Georgiana hurried to her brother so that they might make their joy known within their circle of friends. Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth both accepted the news with true delight.
It was not long before the other members of the party were announced, and they all set out for a short walk to the lake and picnic. The news from the couple must have added to the enjoyment of all present, for all that were assembled held both young people dear in their hearts, but it held particular meaning for one young man in the party and bolstered his own hope enough to attempt, after the meal concluded, to find a moment to speak to Kitty alone. When a walk was suggested and some of the party set out, he took Kitty’s arm and, lagging somewhat behind the group, stopped under the pretension of looking at some pretty aspect in the park.
Judging the time and distance from the others most proper, Mr. Fitzwilliam made Kitty know his dearest wishes for his future happiness and her power over them. Kitty’s heart was overwhelmed by the right sentiments that he expressed and, when she collected herself enough to speak, assured him that his entreaty could not be in vain. They returned to Georgiana and Captain Ramsey, who had been waiting in anticipation of this very news. That Georgiana might have made some hints to her cousin and smoothed his lingering doubts by frequent assurances of Kitty’s affections, would not be known to one half of the new couple for some time. However, whatever help she had rendered could only have sped along what might have happened naturally in time. Mr. Fitzwilliam was wholly entranced with Kitty, and she was in love with him. The marriage of two such people must always follow if there are no great objections on either side.
Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth had the great honour, when they finished their walk, of approving the wishes of two young men in a single day and disposing of both their charges into very pleasing situations. Captain Ramsey soon quit his parents’ house and took possession of his own estate, which in his absence had been let for some years. While the house was respectable, the grounds were small, and the whole of his income from rents was scarcely above seven hundred a year, but with Georgiana’s fortune and a nearly equal sum from his own exploits, Georgiana declared that she would hardly feel herself any poorer for the change.
Kitty was to find that Georgiana’s new home was not very far from the parsonage that she was soon to inhabit. In Georgiana she had finally found a true sister in affection, and she was certain of their remaining close as they looked towards their married lives.
Dear Mother and Father,
This letter will only precede myself for a few days I am sure, I am engaged, and we are coming to meet you this Saturday. You will know my Henry to be the best man in the world soon enough, so I will not fill this page with my praise of his excellent character. La, I have never been so happy! In particulars, he is Mr. Darcy’s cousin, the younger son of his uncle the Earl of ——. He has a living near Pemberley, for you know Pemberley is not far from the Earl’s country seat, and we shall live there.
I am to travel with Mr. Bingley, who has business in London, so do not worry yourself to send a man or the carriage. If everything is settled, he will be able to return me to Pemberley, where we wish to be married. I am running on ahead; we will wait for the proper introductions and permissions.
Know that I am the happiest woman in the world!
All my love etc. Kitty Bennet
Mamma,
We have just arrived at port back in England, I am so pleased! We will be coming to visit as soon as we are at our leisure; there is so much business in the end of a war I must say. I am anxious to shew you my new pelisse, you will just faint when you see it! It is so smart and the best colour! The only eye I have to judge it is my husband’s and you know men are never proper judges of clothing. I have some other news to tell you, but I will not enclose it here, for I must see your face when I tell it. I cannot ruin my own fun. I will send an express post when we depart from London; which is our next destination.
Lydia W.
Chapter 49 – November 1815, Woodhaven
“Elizabeth I am so pleased that you have come, I did not think that we would see you so soon. You must have set out so early!”
“Dearest Jane! It has been a near age, you must tell me what has gone on since your last visit. You must show me your new muslin.”
“Yes, come, I have it here. I have almost completed the decoration.”
“I must say you have the best hand for this work than any of us. Who among our sisters could make such flowers that almost seem alive?”
“You flatter me, Lizzy.”
“I would not flatter you, no. You have seen my work. I have not half your skill.”
“I sometimes wish that I had not spent so much time at improving my skill at a needle, there are some nights when I dearly wish that I could play the pianoforte.”
“I hardly think there was time! You were always repairing and working our gowns. It must be the fate of older sisters to lose some accomplishments on the care of the younger children. Please let me play for you today.”
“Perhaps I have learned what I needed, with two boys the same size everything must be repaired at once. At least when you ruined a dress, we had some time before Mary would want it. I can scarcely keep my little two boys in clothes.”
“I hope that you might at some point have another little one, that you might experience the felicity of taking out old clothes and remembering the fond times when a former child wore them. When young Fitz’s things are brought out for George, I am awash in the moments that he has spent happily in each article of clothing. It seems so very quickly that a child moves from one time of life to the next. Without a very keen memory you forget everything altogether.”
Jane blushed here and said, “I had forgotten to tell you that my twins might expect a companion in some months. I shall delight in the experience you describe so vividly, though I will also hope the next child to enter the world alone.”
“Oh Jane, I am delighted to hear it! Have you written yet to our mother? She will want to tell all of Meryton I am certain.”
“You know I could not neglect her; I expect her to send a letter soon. She is much more reliable than our father.”
“I suspect that is only because without our letters she could not contrive a thing to speak of in company. There is nothing to say of a child as young as our brother, except that he is strong and eats well. With Mary settled she must have not a thing to speak of.”
“Ah, that is the post! Thank you. I shall read it aloud. “Dear Jane, I must relate to you the most shocking news-””
Jane broke off and began to read in earnest. Elizabeth flew to her side and sat near enough that they could both read at once. They finished the letter quickly and both were so surprised as to sit for some time in silence.
“Elizabeth! I am sorry I missed your arrival; Jane must have told you I was out shooting.” Charles said before he truly regarded the women and saw them sitting in silence, “Whatever is the matter?”
“Lydia-” Jane started but then looked back down at the letter and said nothing else.
“Our brother, Wickham, it seems, was laid to rest in France,” Elizabeth struggled to continue, “and Lydia has wed a general, in Belgium, not a week after the event.”
Charles reached for the letter and began to read it himself, “Well I saw this in the papers, that a Lydia was married but it was put in so strangely, I cannot remember the words, but I never thought it was your sister. He, General Warren, he was quite a hero. Made a good fortune by his actions at Waterloo.”
“Yes, my mother seems to think that he is very wealthy. Though, I do not trust her to give an honest account; she exaggerates my income frequently in company.”
“She has visited your family but means to return to London and settle there until her husband is called again to service. I wonder that he does not retire. He must have enough to live well.”
“Mamma writes that he is very devoted to the army. I feel I must meet this man. To marry Lydia but to be so devoted an officer! I cannot picture such a character. I must tell Fitzwilliam; he will be eager to know.”
“I am saddened to hear of Lydia’s loss. She must feel it, even if her situation in Brussels demanded her immediate marriage- Wickham’s death I mean to say. He was not, I must admit though I am sorry to say it, a very good man. I do not think, however, that he was unkind to our sister. He did his duty in Waterloo; we must give him some honour for that,” said Jane.
“Indeed Jane, he often stayed with us and was not unwelcome company,” Charles agreed.
Elizabeth knew this statement was overly kind and only smiled. Her sister Lydia, it seemed, was much the same as ever, bound again in an improper marriage. She was only left to hope that the General was a much better man than Wickham.
She would not speak poorly of the dead, but the relief that she felt knowing that the burden of Wickham was lifted from her family was immense. Her thoughts quickly turned to Lavinia, would she be returned? Would this man want to raise another man’s child? Elizabeth suspected that such a letter would be arriving at her home as well. She was anxious to be home and let Fitzwilliam know the news, but she could not cut the visit short.
The sisters talked of the marriage for some time but having no further information than what their mother had written, and what Bingley was able to supply, they were forced to wait for further communication. Elizabeth departed soon after dinner and spent her journey home in anticipation of relating what had happened to her husband. He was in the study when she returned, alone to her good fortune, and she began in earnest, “Wickham has not returned from the mainland, he has been buried there.”
“It is… difficult to think of how little he will be missed. What of your sister?”
“She married a General Warren, from what I understand not a week after the sad event.”
“That is no uncommon for a wife of an officer abroad, but I have heard the name. He was the commander of Wickham’s regiment.”
“Yes, I must imagine that he fell in love with her.”
“Are they to settle in England?”
“He has not resigned or taken a home post; my mother indicates that they may live abroad.”
“Extraordinary.”
“I do not wish to be uncharitable, but I cannot feel true grief for the loss.”
“Wickham was never a soldier. Had he acted in his own interest he might be safe right now at a parsonage on my own estate. Had your sister- but there is nothing to gain from discussing her folly.”
“I do hope, for my sister’s sake, that she had chosen wisely. Sometimes I thought that at least she was happy with Wickham, in her own way. He will be remembered, in some small way, in Lavinia.”
“I wonder we have not heard from them directly. I do not know what we might expect from her new husband when it comes to the child’s future.”
Elizabeth nodded warily.
“Do not be alarmed, I had some business to see to in town, you recall? We can go directly and meet with them. They might still be in Hertfordshire.”
“Do you think they will allow her to stay? I only to raise her as our own. Lydia had no interest in her daughter; what could she desire but for Lavinia’s care to continue without any inconvenience to her?”
“I will do whatever I can do persuade him. I have never met General Warren, but I have more faith in the good nature of almost any man compared to George Wickham.”
Fitzwilliam wished that he could offer his wife more comfort, but he was powerless before the whims of her youngest sister. That Lydia could again hold their happiness in her hands was abhorrent to him, but he was not yet worried about his success. He could not see a man, newly married, snubbing an opportunity to rid himself of a previous man’s child. If Lydia did not want her daughter, what possible reason could this General Warren have for wanting to recall Lavinia? Suddenly a black thought crossed his mind, that Lavinia might not be Wickham’s daughter at all. Then he recalled how strongly her features resembled Wickham and was calmer again. Determined to settle the matter, Fitzwilliam arranged for them to leave the next day.
Elizabeth rode towards Longbourn in a wretched state. Lavinia was as dear to her as her own daughter and she hated not knowing what would come. Her most ardent hope that Lavinia might be properly secured in their family, but at this time, simply to have the matter settled, to know if she was to have a daughter or none, was almost as important. It was better for Lavinia for the decision to be fixed, before she was old enough to form strong notions of her own. Certainly, young Fitzwilliam and George were everything to Elizabeth, to have two strong and healthy children was enough to make any mother joyful, but now that the hope of further children was lost, she was desperate not to lose anything more.
Darcy,
I have finally confirmed Captain George Wickham’s death, his record was entered as Captain George William, a simple enough mistake by a transcriber I imagine. Would you like me to request that the war office correct the records? I know he has no family, but I will not rob your brother-in-law of his valour. Mrs. Bingley informed us that your family has heard from Mrs. Wickham, I am glad she is safe.
I feel I must thank you for arranging for Mrs. Collins’ removal from Kent. She is a good woman, she deserves better.
Colonel de Bourgh
Chapter 50 – November 1815, Longbourn
The unexpected visit from her favourite daughter and her new son-in-law sent Mrs. Bennet into a frenzy of nerves and bustle. Mr. and Mrs. Wickham could have retired to their usual apartment, but Mrs. Bennet had not anticipated Sir General John Warren and Lady Warren, for whom more careful preparations must be made. General Warren was mortified, he had depended on his wife to send proper information to her mother, but Lydia would not be denied the pleasure of her parents’ surprise upon seeing her in a smart chaise and four, in finer clothes than they had ever supplied for her, and being able to introduce her new husband before them.
“Lady Warren! Such a fine title. I have never heard such a good name in my life. Why Lydia I could not be more pleased for you. When has this all happened? Your- I mean to say Captain Wickham-”
General Warren stopped her, “Captain Wickham, rest his soul, was buried on the battlefield.”
“Lydia, you did not write a word! We have not been mourning him as we ought to have. However, I see that you do not-” regarding her daughter’s dress and seeing not even black ribbons, Mrs. Bennet found herself suddenly at a loss of what to say.
“Do not be silly mamma, it is not proper for a bride to mourn. Just think how dreadful I might have looked on my wedding day! Besides, it has been long enough now. Cannot the happiness of a new marriage bleach the black of a former one?”
The line must have been prior studied, for it was delivered with particular confidence. Mrs. Bennet felt the strangeness of the situation deeply and was unable to speak further for some time. General Warren appeared more properly than his wife, wearing a black band and coat. Lydia, however, had never needed a willing partner to converse.
“Is it not so very funny that I am still Lydia W.? I was laughing as I signed my name to my letter. I could not imagine your surprise when I came to the house. Though I do greatly prefer Lady Warren! All my letters from now on will bear that name.”
Mr. Bennet could say nothing, except the barest civilities to General Warren and his daughter. Mrs. Bennet, who had recollected herself, invited them within and, calling for some refreshment, left them to prepare a better room. Nothing seemed proper enough for such a visit and such a son-in-law; the dinner could not be fine enough, her own dress not carefully prepared. She was in an acute state of agitation when Mr. Bennet found her.
“Do not make yourself nervous my dear,” he said kindly, “It is on Lydia’s account that you are found unprepared. Her behaviour is as reprehensible as ever. You have prepared a fine table and it will suffice. Let General Warren pay the cost of his wife’s foolishness.”
Mrs. Bennet was torn between pleasure that her husband would speak to her so kindly and abhorrence at his words towards his own daughter. “Mr. Bennet, how can you be so cruel?”
“I am afraid that we have raised a child without principles, and the chief of the blame falls upon myself. You and I, Mrs. Bennet, will do better with by Lewis. We must be content with that.”
“Why, I am sure little Lewis would never treat his own mother so!”
“I will to ensure that I do not set such an example for our son, as I have often done in the past. Lydia, however, is beyond our ability to influence.”
Mrs. Bennet was soon much calmer and in defiance of her daughter’s impropriety, dressed in black for dinner. Lydia was in high spirits and did not feel the insult, as she hardly noticed her mother at all. Lydia had too much to say, she had hardly written at all since leaving England. Her time in Brussels, Paris, and the introduction at court and her husband’s knighthood were all told with excitement. Wickham was not mentioned, Lavinia was not recalled, and her father’s stern looks were either not noticed or not attended to.
Little Lewis was, of course, produced and admired. General Warren’s sincere admiration of the child was enough to win over Mrs. Bennet’s heart, which had recently only been divided from Lewis by concern for Lydia. Lewis himself was kind enough to let his new brother-in-law hold him without too much fuss and by his health and general plumpness, he deserved all the praise he received. Lydia, who had only a passing interest in a brother nearly twenty years her junior, said enough to placate her mother and disgust her father, and much less than her husband.
Mr. Bennet was entirely perplexed by the scene before him, Lydia appeared to him as she ever had been, wild and careless, seemingly unaffected by her husband’s recent passing. Knowing Wickham’s worth as Mr. Bennet did, perhaps this was not unexpected. However, the true mystery lay in the man, General Warren. Mr. Bennet knew enough of the war to know the General was a very intelligent man and that his actions had been instrumental to victory. Could a man of such sense be blinded by Lydia? What could have prompted him to marry a woman who must bring him disgrace? Mr. Bennet reprimanded himself, he had been blinded by youth and beauty once, and Lydia, he observed, had not seemed at all changed by her child or years, she was lively and youthful, as pretty as she had ever been.
Mr. Bennet was obliged to decide what the most prudent course of action might be with the couple within his home. The delicate matter of announcing both a death and a wedding seemed impossible without resulting in questions, rumours, and speculation. They were lucky to have little left to protect; Mary was settled. Kitty was at Pemberley, the news of Meryton was unlikely to hinder her progress in society. Young Lewis would live to outgrow the shame of his sister, and he would have more than enough to recommend him. Mr. Bennet’s thoughts, therefore, were focused mainly on himself and the character that he had been trying to salvage since Mrs. Bennet’s pregnancy had been confirmed.
Mrs. Bennet was disposed, though even she had reservations, to introduce her new son-in-law to the neighbourhood. Mr. Bennet was staunchly against it, but they had engagements already planned and he was forced to decide how to address them. He set his wife to writing letters to his other daughters to relay the news while he thought. He sought out General Warren to discuss the matter.
“I do not know how to introduce you to the families of our acquaintance, as I would in any other circumstance.”
“I suspected that you might find the circumstance of our marriage unpalatable, which is why I delayed our coming for six months. Had I known that that the news of your son-in-law’s death had not yet reached you, I would have given you notice. I can only imagine it was an error in the records, he must be under the wrong name.”
“Lydia does not show the respect she should for his passing.”
“I cannot undo our marriage, but Lydia will comply with any appearance of mourning that you wish for her to display.”
Mr. Bennet had no great hopes in Lydia’s conduct, but he saw no better option. There was one additional matter he wished to understand, “As Lydia’s father, I must inquire what has been settled between you. Is my daughter properly provided for?”
“I have brought what my lawyer has drawn up, be assured that your daughter will be well cared for. Your granddaughter as well, should she return to us.”
“What of any other children?”
“Lydia’s children are mine,” he said, “I accepted that risk when I married her as I did.”
Mr. Bennet felt the full weight of the statement and gave Warren credit for it. Whatever else he might feel, it was impossible to deny that the General was devoted to his daughter. However Lydia had done it, she had finally captured a man of sense.
The next day, Mrs. Bennet let it be known in the neighbourhood Wickham’s fate, and Lydia, who dressed properly in black and grey, received visits from her friends and neighbours. What was spoken of out of their own home, the Bennets would not hear for some time, except that there was little remorse for the death of a man who had been so careless with his money and affections. Lydia was to hear all that was due to the widow of a soldier, and she, to the surprise of her parents, acted, when in company, entirely as she should. It was only a small gesture, but it gave her father hope.