“It was lovely to see you again, Lady Matlock,” said Mrs. Hurst with a much more practiced air and a brief curtsy. “Miss Bennet.” She collected her sister, but they did not remain; instead, they departed through the front door and crossed the street.
The dowager leaned forward for a better view out of the window. “I thought they would never leave.” She dabbed her lips with her napkin and placed it back in her lap.
“How are you acquainted with them?”
“Those two ladies have a brother—Charles Bingley. He is affable and never less than generous; I cannot find anything improper at all about the young man.” She took a sip of her tea and swallowed. “Fitzwilliam and he became friends just after Mr. Bingley, who is younger, graduated from Cambridge. I think Mr. Bingley’s sociable nature draws out my rather quiet and reticent grandson.”
She smiled as she remembered Mr. Darcy’s description of himself and his problems conversing with strangers.
“Fitzwilliam invited Mr. Bingley to Sagemore a few years ago, not long after he inherited the estate, but when Mr. Bingley arrived, his sisters were with him. The ladies, if you can speak of them as such, had not been included in the invitation, yet Fitzwilliam did not turn them away. Instead, I received a letter begging me to come and serve as his hostess for the month.”
“Oh my,” Elizabeth murmured. “How rude.”
“How rude, indeed! I suppose, in hindsight, the only thing I can fault Charles Bingley for is not standing up to those sisters of his.” The dowager sat back in her seat and spoke rather low, even though no one was seated close to them. “Miss Bingley has been a thorn in my grandson’s side since she came out into society four years ago. At first, she wished to distance herself from her roots in trade by marrying a gentleman of a certain wealth, and was eyeing several prospects, including my grandson.
“Her ambition became worse after she was invited to travel to the Peaks with another young lady and her family the summer after her debut. They toured Pemberley and Miss Bingley realised that fine estate was Fitzwilliam’s future. Her interest in him as a gentleman of some means became complete avarice.”
Bewildered by it all, Elizabeth shook her head. “Yet her brother brought her along uninvited. I cannot understand how he remains unaware.”
“He is aware, very aware,” the lady answered. “He has told my grandson she wishes to marry him, and Fitzwilliam was very emphatic that he would never entertain the thought. She is not unlike a great many ladies of the ton, but with her brother being Fitzwilliam’s friend, she is convinced she has an advantage over any competition.”
“Is Mr. Darcy pursued by so many?” The idea sounded daunting.
“Not truly pursued. There are few who would turn him down, but George still receives a great deal of attention since he is the current master of Pemberley.
Elizabeth nodded in understanding.
The dowager indicated they should gather their belongings. Once they were ensconced back in the carriage, the grand lady placed her hand upon Elizabeth’s forearm.
“Due to Fitzwilliam’s friendship with Mr. Bingley, you will cross paths with both of those ladies in the future. You should never trust Miss Bingley or her sister,” she said emphatically. “I would imagine she will react to your marriage in one of two ways: she will either ingratiate herself to you in the hopes of maintaining a connection to the Darcy name, or she will become a perfect cat and show you every bit of her disdain.”
Overwhelmed by it all, Elizabeth leaned into the comfortable cushion as she considered all she had learned that morning. “Is Mrs. Hurst often with Mr. Bingley?”
“I believe Mr. Bingley and Miss Bingley have rooms in Mr. Hurst’s home. I feel for Mr. Hurst, but then he went into that marriage with both eyes open.”
“Was it a love match?”
The dowager gave a brief laugh and shook her head. “Heavens, no. His father was a drunkard and the estate was in need of funds. Her twenty-thousand pound dowry helped keep them from dissolving into debt.”
The dowager turned to the window and watched the buildings as they passed, so Elizabeth lost herself in thought.
Mr. Darcy deserved a good deal of pity. First, Miss Bingley had pursued him for her own mercenary purposes, and then his father attempted to betroth him to his cousin to assuage his own greed. So many only cared for him as a means to an end.
The dowager touched her hand, and she startled and glanced to the side where Ashcroft house stood. When had they arrived? She must have been so absorbed with her thoughts, she had not noticed.
“Good afternoon, my lady.” The butler gave a small bow as they entered. “Lord Matlock awaits your return in the drawing room.”
“Thank you,” she responded. “Come, Lizzy, I will introduce you to my eldest, my son Henry.” She looped her arm through Elizabeth’s and steered her towards the room where they had met the previous evening.
She could not account for her anxiety until she recalled it was similar to the night before. Once again, she was walking into an unknown, where someone might send her back to Hertfordshire—throw her back to the wolves from which she was trying to escape. The door opened and a gentleman sitting in an armchair raised his head from the book he was reading.
“Mamma,” he greeted as they entered. “We were supposed to walk in Hyde Park this afternoon; or did you forget?”
“Oh! Forgive me, Henry. Fitzwilliam surprised me by his arrival last night, and as a result, I have been out shopping with Lizzy most of the morning.”
He had glanced at Elizabeth when they entered, but now that his mother had referred to her, he regarded her with interest.
“Would you care for some tea or refreshments? Lizzy and I have just come from my favourite tea shop, but I will order a tray if you wish.”
He glanced back to his mother and shook his head. “No, thank you. I am very well at the moment. I take it this must be Lizzy then?”
She was comforted by the fact that his voice was cheerful as he asked and motioned towards her.
“Yes, she is, as a matter of fact.” The dowager pulled her forward from where she had held back near the door. “Elizabeth Bennet, I would like to introduce you to my son, the Earl of Matlock, Henry Fitzwilliam.”
She then turned back to her son. “Lizzy is betrothed to Fitzwilliam.”
The earl’s face expressed shock as he gave a small sputter. “When did Fitzwilliam become engaged? I have always thought we would have a huge row because George would try to choose his bride for him.”
“You are not far from the truth, my lord,” Elizabeth interjected as she curtsied. Lord Matlock flushed—he now realised he had not behaved as he should—and bowed.
“Forgive me, Miss Bennet. I should have greeted you properly before I began discussing my misgivings about your betrothal in front of you.”
A glint in his eye reminded her of his mother, and his statement appeared to be his attempt to inject a bit of levity into the situation.
“It is quite natural for you to have some questions. I am not offended.”
The dowager released her arm and took a seat on the sofa. Elizabeth sat in the chair opposite her while Lord Matlock resumed his place in the armchair.
“As for George, he has tried to force his will on Fitzwilliam. Nonetheless, he became betrothed to Lizzy after his father issued an ultimatum, which gave him a fortnight to appear at Rosings and propose to Anne. He intends to wed Lizzy before George travels to London to force the matter.”
Lord Matlock closed his eyes and exhaled heavily. “I thought Catherine was simply spouting off as she does from time to time. I was aware that his father would attempt this eventually, and I warned George I would stand against forcing my nephew’s hand. I had not anticipated he would press the matter now.”
“He has not listened to us for some time, as you are well aware. Anne’s passing erected a wall, and nothing gets through, it seems.” The older woman looked more her age at that moment than she had appeared since they had
met.
“Anne was my younger sister and Fitzwilliam’s mother,” clarified Uncle Henry.
His mother smiled wistfully. “Anne was the only person who could penetrate that haughty exterior and bring out the best in her husband. That was her way with everyone. She was so gentle and kind.”
Her description would have fit Jane well. “She sounds lovely. I am sure it would have been a pleasure to meet her.”
The dowager and her son gave small smiles at her words, but words could not bring Anne Darcy back. If Lady Anne were alive, she would not be betrothed to Mr. Darcy, she would be on a ship bound for the Canadas. In spite of this, she still would wish Mrs. Darcy to be with her family. She did not have it in her to be selfish.
“Lizzy,” said the dowager. “I am sure you would like to refresh yourself from the day.”
Of course the lady wished some time alone to speak with her son, and so Elizabeth was content to make her way to her rooms. “I must admit that I would.”
“Then why do you not go on up, dear. You may as well dress for dinner.”
Elizabeth caught a glimpse of the clock on the mantel and frowned. “It would be a little early, would it not?”
“A bit, but there is no sense in refreshing yourself only to have to return to change for dinner.”
One corner of her lips curled up in amusement. “Of course. You are very wise to suggest such a plan.”
“I am always wise.”
Elizabeth’s eyebrow lifted as a twinkle in the dowager’s eye let her know the lady did not take offense to her teasing, and the wit she had been suppressing could not help but assert itself in response.
“The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.1 ”
The lady gasped in mock indignation as Lord Matlock guffawed.
“You are very uncharitable, Lizzy!” The elder lady grinned. “A still tongue makes a wise head.2 ”
Lord Matlock gave a small snort. “I believe the two of you get along far too well. I do wonder how long you would go on if I gave you leave to continue.”
Elizabeth chuckled. “Please send word when you are finished discussing me.”
She rose, gave a quick curtsy, and closed the door to the continuing sounds of the dowager and her son still chuckling behind her.
The laughter slowly ebbed after the door closed behind Elizabeth. Lord Matlock turned to his mother and lifted both eyebrows. “I have never heard of her or the Bennet family. What do we know of her?”
She smoothed her skirt as she turned serious. “Her father had a small estate in Hertfordshire called Longbourn. According to Fitzwilliam, a horrific carriage accident claimed the lives of her family almost seven months ago.”
“She was not wearing mourning.”
“No, I believe that is to please your nephew.” At her son’s puzzled expression, she raised her hand. “I will explain, but allow me to finish before you interject.” He nodded his agreement, and she took a deep breath.
“Lizzy’s only remaining family are two uncles on her mother’s side. One is a solicitor in the town near her home, and the other is in trade here in London.” Lord Matlock’s eyebrows rose again, but he remained silent. “The uncle in trade has made some poor business decisions and owes money to an unsavoury character. When Fitzwilliam was passing through Hertfordshire on his return to London, he happened to overhear the two uncles arguing. The one wanted to trade Lizzy for a portion of his debts and use the money left to her after her family’s passing to help pay more.”
“Oh, Good Lord,” exclaimed Lord Matlock. “He wanted to save her. Fitzwilliam definitely has his mother’s soft heart!”
“George is not without compassion, especially with his tenants,” she defended.
“That is true, but he would never advocate marriage as a solution.”
“No, he would not, especially with Fitzwilliam. He might have nominated that boy he dotes on so much,” she said distastefully.
“Wickham?”
She nodded. “I have never liked him!”
“No, neither have I. But I had Arthur and Richard informing me of his every transgression against Fitzwilliam. They disliked the way Wickham treated their cousin immensely, and lost all respect for George due to his sponsorship of that wastrel.”
“Well, that will be one positive aspect of this break. Wickham should not bother Fitzwilliam anymore.”
“I am not so sure,” Lord Matlock replied speculatively. “But back to the subject of Miss Bennet. Are we sure this entire situation is legitimate? Could it be a way to fraud my nephew?”
“I do not see how. The uncle drew up the marriage settlement, which Fitzwilliam is taking to his solicitor in town today. I am sure if there is anything amiss, they will bring it to his attention.”
“Powell will definitely speak up. He is excellent.” Henry stood and poured himself a small glass of port. “I was relieved to discover Fitzwilliam took my advice and retained him. I was concerned if there was a break between him and George that having the same solicitor was not a wise decision.” He took a sip as he returned to his seat. “There will be no possibility of Fitzwilliam’s business affairs being passed to his father this way.”
“It was a wise decision,” she concurred. “As for Lizzy, I do not see any deception in her. The poor dear was trembling in fear when she arrived last night, but she has slowly been showing some of her personality as she becomes more comfortable. I must say, I have enjoyed her company a great deal thus far. She is proving to be witty and quite intelligent.”
Henry was sceptical. “I would wish to spend more time around her. I do not want to see Fitzwilliam ruined by a rash choice. I will have to insist Elinor invite her around for tea.”
“Why do you not write Elinor a note and have her join us for dinner? Mrs. Haney has plenty of time to prepare something extra if she feels it is necessary.”
“That is a splendid idea, Mamma. I will take care of it as soon as I finish my glass of port.”
She rolled her eyes and rose, stepping over to her escritoire. “Do not put yourself out, Henry. I will take care of the matter.”
Her son lifted his glass to her. “Excellent! Let us ensure this young lady is what she appears to be.”
Glancing up from her letter, she paused. “I truly do not think there is anything to discover. I believe she is exactly as she seems.”
“I know, but Anne inherited her compassionate heart from you. I simply wish to be certain you are not blinded by the tale of woe that has accompanied her.”
She chuckled as she placed her pen back in the ink. “Tale of woe? You are being rather theatrical, do you not think?”
Lord Matlock stared into his glass of port with concern etched across his face. “We shall see, Mamma. We shall see.”
1 Erasmus (1466-1536)
2 Shakespeare, As You Like It, Act V, Scene I
Chapter 6
When Elizabeth ventured back downstairs after refreshing herself, she was dressed in her best mourning gown. Hattie had objected, claiming the material was not fine enough for dining with an earl and his wife, but Elizabeth had stood her ground and insisted since she had eschewed her usual attire that morning.
As she approached the drawing room, the door was still closed, so she passed it by and entered the music room, intent on practicing while she had the time.
The pianoforte was by far the finest she had ever seen, and she drew her fingers across the finish as she made her way to where the music was stored. The dowager’s collection was extensive, which allowed her to find several pieces she had played previously as well as a few that she wished to try.
She took her spot on the richly upholstered seat and applied her fingers to the keys, playing several pieces, even repeating specific lines or the entire work to master the fingering. She had just managed to make her way through the first stanza of a new sonata when she was startled from her study.
“You are correct that you would play better if you practiced more,
but for your first attempt at playing that piece, you did remarkably well.”
She stood and turned, her hand remaining on the side of the instrument. “Thank you, I did not receive a message. I hope you were not waiting on me.”
The dowager smiled. “No, we were just finishing and heard the pianoforte. We thought we would come to you instead.”
Lord Matlock appeared at his mother’s shoulder, accompanied by a woman. She was an attractive lady with auburn hair and green eyes. She was dressed richly, yet she did not have a conceited air. Instead, she was regarding Elizabeth with a warm, curious expression.
“Miss Bennet,” said Lord Matlock, as he took a step forward. “I would like to introduce you to my wife, the Right Honourable Countess of Matlock, Elinor Fitzwilliam. Elinor, this is Darcy’s betrothed, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
The two ladies curtsied and Lady Matlock smiled. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Bennet. I hope you do not mind that Henry and I are joining you, Darcy, and Mother for dinner.”
It was odd how they were essentially asking her if she objected as it was not her home. “Of course not. I am certain Grandmamma is very pleased to have your company this evening.” Lord and Lady Matlock’s eyebrows rose and they both turned towards the dowager.
“I have already given Lizzy leave to address me thus.”
They nodded and Lady Matlock took her arm and followed the dowager and Lord Matlock back to the drawing room. “Henry and I offer our most heartfelt condolences for the passing of your family.”
“Thank you, Lady Matlock,” she responded, seating herself to one side of the sofa.
“We shall be family soon enough and as mother said earlier, we are a family party. Please call me Aunt Elinor, and you may call my husband Uncle Henry.”
She thanked Lady Matlock while she attempted to regain her equanimity. The last four and twenty hours had been quite a jolt to her. Just when she would begin to feel herself, someone new would appear and she felt as if she was beginning once again.
The dowager took a seat beside her and patted her hand. “I am certain Fitzwilliam will return soon. We shall be a very merry party this evening. There is really no other choice in the matter. I do not host bad dinner parties.”
An Unwavering Trust Page 8
