An Unwavering Trust

by L. L. Diamond

  Her eyes lit up, and she began to grin. “That would be delightful. I hoped to make another circuit around the island on the river path before I returned to the house.” He took her hand, entwining their fingers, and led her out of the stable and across the bridge. They had just veered off onto the trail when a carriage pulled up behind them and Bingley alighted.

  “I say, Darcy. I had not expected to find you taking a walk through the muck.”

  He peered at Elizabeth just as her shoulders dropped. “Elizabeth needed some fresh air after three days of rain. We thought to take a ramble around the island, but we will make our way back to the house. I am sure you would like to refresh yourself.”

  Bingley lifted a hand before Darcy could step forward. “No need to abandon your stroll for me. I am capable of showing myself to the house, and I have every faith your servants will rise to the occasion.

  “The trip was rather arduous, and I will require some time to put myself to rights anyhow. You do not have to wait on me.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “But it would be rude of us not to accompany you.”

  Bingley laughed, stepped forward, and bowed over Elizabeth’s hand. “If we were at the house, we would greet one another, and I would be whisked upstairs by your housekeeper before I could muddy the floors. This is no different. Please continue your walk.”

  “You are certain?” asked Darcy.

  “I am no child, and I am in no way offended.”

  After they shook hands, Bingley climbed back into his carriage for the short trip to the front entrance.

  “I feel as though I am being rude by not accompanying him.”

  He smiled and tugged her along with him on the trail. “Bingley has become more like family over the years than a friend, and he may very well be family soon. He meant what he said, so let us take our stroll before we return.” With one last glance at the departing carriage, she wrapped her hand around his arm, and fell into step beside him.

  Darcy adored the intimacy that arose as they walked. Sometimes they spoke of the household or their family, sometimes of books or music, but their usual practice was to immerse themselves in the views around them and only to speak on occasion.

  Today, Elizabeth commented more on the few animals present along the way, but did not say much else. He hoped she was not still upset with Hattie and Mrs. Green, and that she would not be cross with either upon their return.

  In the end, he had no reason to fret. His wife did not utter a single sour word to the housekeeper, even if she did catch the older woman scrutinizing her petticoats and muddy boots, the latter of which they were made to remove before they ventured to their chambers.

  He escorted his wife to their rooms, but she paused within his to kiss him with ardour. “Do you wish to bathe together?”

  His surprised reaction prompted a giggle. “I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours, my love, but I will dismiss James first. I would not like him to be present as is his wont when I bathe.”

  “I will have Hattie help me remove these muddy clothes, and I will meet you in your dressing room.”

  She disappeared through the door leading to her room while he marvelled at his luck in his choice of wife. Grinning, he departed to find his valet in order to dismiss him until he was called.

  “I must thank you for inviting me for Christmas.” Bingley rested his glass on his leg as he took in the library. “I was not anticipating the return to London and Hurst’s home.”

  “I should think not,” commented Darcy. Elizabeth had fallen asleep after their bath, and he had dressed to return to his study until Bingley appeared, which was about an hour later. They decided to catch up over brandy, allowing his wife the much-needed rest.

  “I do feel a bit de trop. You must be sure to inform me if you and Mrs. Darcy wish for time alone. I can make myself scarce with ease.”

  Darcy smiled as he situated himself in the comfortable chair. “We are quite capable of secluding ourselves within our rooms if we wish for solitude. You will not disturb us.”

  Bingley took a sip of his brandy. “Your aunt ventured to the house a few times after your departure. She is an entertaining old cat.”

  “I believe the family consensus is harridan, but I suppose cat would work.”

  “She may have been once,” observed Bingley, “but she took tea with us twice the week after you departed. She does not strike me as manipulative like Caroline.”

  “I would have you take care. I have never known her not to have some manner of agenda.”

  “But what does she have to gain anymore? Her daughter has passed. You have made it clear she is not to interfere in Rosings, else she will be banished to a ‘respectable’ neighbourhood in London.” He shook his head. “I think she is defeated and lonely, but I will keep her past behaviour in mind.”

  Darcy examined his friend. “To be honest, I was amazed with how well you handled her. Why have you never behaved as such with your sisters?”

  With an amused smirk, Bingley gave a shrug. “I suppose because they are my sisters. Louisa was not always catty, but was a loving older sister when we were children.

  As for Caroline, she was always alone when she was young. Louisa cared for her, as well, but they attended different schools. I think father viewed it as an opportunity to obtain wider social connections.

  “Whilst she was away, Caroline changed. I have maintained hope that she might say or do something to indicate she is still the same person as when she was young, and I suppose is why I have given her such a free rein.”

  Darcy placed his glass on the side table. “When does she wed?”

  “Before the New Year, but she is angry with me for pressing her to choose; thus, I am not invited.” Bingley’s eyes expressed his pain, and Darcy pitied him.

  “Perhaps one day, she will realise it was as much for her own good as yours.”

  A wry chuckle escaped Bingley’s lips as he became fascinated with his empty glass. “I doubt it. I suspect she will attempt to reconcile once she has heard of my courtship with Lady Grace, but I will not allow her to manipulate the situation for her own gain.”

  “Good!” Grace knew Bingley’s sisters and was not fond of them in the slightest. Darcy was relieved Bingley acknowledged the possibility they might attempt to elevate themselves through her if the courtship led to marriage.

  “I do not know how your finances stand, but if you are interested, you could lease Rosings Place.”

  “Lady Catherine’s house in town?”

  “Anne’s—now mine, but yes, Lady Catherine claimed it as if it were her own.

  “Should you marry Grace, you would have a place to live when you are in London, rather than at my uncle’s.”

  Bingley gave the matter some thought, staring out of the window at the rain-soaked garden.

  “I believe I will take you up on your offer. I know Caroline will try to insinuate herself back into my life, but I wish to distance myself from her as much as possible.” He shook his head as he adjusted his cuff. “I had enough of her scheming prior to Bath, but her manipulations there were the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

  Darcy agreed, and they spent the remainder of their time in a discussion of the lease and Bingley’s plans, until Elizabeth appeared an hour later.

  Early Christmas morning, Elizabeth woke with a start due to the unceasing movements of the baby, which also prevented her from falling back to sleep. She did not wish to disturb Fitzwilliam, so she moved to the sofa beside the fireplace. With her feet tucked under her dressing gown, she settled in to read her book until she found herself being kissed awake some time later.

  “Why are you sleeping on the sofa?” he asked between kisses. She opened her bleary eyes and shifted closer to him.

  “The baby would not allow me to sleep, so I came over here to read.” The open book in her lap was only a page or two further than her last stopping point. “I must not have read for long.”

  He placed his warm hand a
cross her stomach, his fingers splayed and his palm pressed flush against her shift for a few minutes before he began rubbing in circles.

  “Very quiet now.”

  “Seems to be.” She spoke in soft tones as she relished the look of adoration he bestowed upon her belly. He leaned in and grazed his lips against hers.

  “Happy Christmas, my love.”

  She grinned as she wrapped her arms around his chest. “Happy Christmas.”

  “If you let me rise, I will fetch your present.” Fitzwilliam had the boyish grin on his face she found so endearing.

  “You wish to exchange gifts now?”

  “I am certain Bingley has a gift for us, just as we bought a gift for him, but I thought we would not want to bore him by making him watch us exchange our presents to one another.”

  He disappeared into his dressing room for a few moments, and returned holding a rather large package, which he placed in front of her.

  “What could I ever require that is so large?”

  “Open it and I will explain.” He placed a hand on her back as she leaned forward and pulled the ribbon binding a length of fine muslin.

  “I thought you could embroider it for a shawl or a gown for the baby.”

  “It is beautiful, thank you.” She released the last bit of the knot, which held everything together, and eased the fabric off of a large, carved wooden box.

  “I found a gentleman who makes these in London. I told him your love of nature and he described this.” He pointed to the intricate flowers inlaid upon the lid. “I have seen you with letters from your family, locks of their hair, and a few other keepsakes, all scattered around in different places. I thought you could keep them together in here.”

  “It is beautiful.” She wiped a tear from her eye and ran her fingers along the details on the lid. “How did you think of it?”

  “I offered to have mourning jewellery made for you, if you recall.” She nodded and squeezed his hand.

  “I did not want you to go to such an expense. Charlotte was kind enough to gather the locks before the funerals, and I am content to have a small part of them. I also had not wanted to be covered in mourning jewellery.”

  He lifted her hand to kiss, but she placed it on his cheek and drew him down to press her lips to his.

  When she drew back, she opened the lid to examine the different compartments. “It is exquisite. I just do not know where I will put it.”

  Fitzwilliam pointed to a place on the sofa table behind them. “I thought here, so when you want to view its contents, you have all the privacy you could desire.”

  He drew something out of his pocket, and placed it in her palm. “Your Uncle Philips enclosed this in his last letter to me and asked me to hold it for today.”

  She closed her fingers around the folded paper and held it for a moment, tracing her finger along the seal before she broke it and unfolded the page with care.

  14 December 1811

  Meryton, Hertfordshire

  Dearest niece,

  I hope you have not waited long for this letter. After I read your latest missive to your aunt, I felt the need to tell you how pleased we are to know you are happy and well.

  Putting you in the carriage with Mr. Darcy was one of the most difficult things I have ever had to do, and I berated myself for weeks after your departure. Had I done what was best? Would you have been better off journeying to one of the Canadas? Those questions were nothing to the sheer panic I felt at times wondering whether Mr. Darcy was as good a man as he seemed. Those weeks we were in Brighton and did not correspond were the most difficult. I felt so helpless—what if you should have had need of our aid?

  Despite how well these schemes appear to have succeeded, I owe you an apology for my inability to protect you as I should—for waiting as long as I had to inform you of your uncle’s machinations. I have felt guilty for allowing you to be forced into a decision that should not have been made with such haste and for you to be compelled to marry a man you did not know and did not love.

  I have come to know your husband through my correspondence with both you and him since our return to Meryton, and I am impressed with his character and intelligence. I am even more impressed with you, dear niece. Your strength, compassion, and kindness are shown in all your actions and words. I feel your father looks down upon you with a proud smile much like my smile when I read your letters.

  You did what was necessary at the time and proved yourself an incredible young woman and wife. It is not difficult to discern the love and pride your husband has for you and his excitement for the arrival of your child. He is positive you will be an excellent mother, and I can only echo his belief.

  Your aunt and I pray for a safe confinement and a healthy baby. I am certain my wife will write you before the end of the week, but I am also positive her letter will be nothing but gossip.

  All our love,

  Bertram and Edith Philips

  Elizabeth wiped a tear that had fallen to her cheek. She would need to pen a letter to Uncle Phillips when she managed a free moment; she wished to thank him for his words and to absolve him of any guilt he might retain. The decisions that had brought her such happiness should no longer bring him pain, as they were made and made for the best. Her husband pressed a handkerchief into her hand and she chuckled.

  “Perhaps I should begin to carry them in my dressing gown.”

  He wrapped an arm around her. “If your letter was similar to mine, tears are warranted. He has harboured a great deal of guilt all these months and is relieved to find things as they should be.”

  “He says as much.” She held out the page for Fitzwilliam, and gave him enough time to read it in its entirety.

  “He is correct. I am very proud to be your husband. I also feel we have been remiss in not paying them a visit for so long. After all, they are all the family you have remaining.”

  “They understand why we have not been to Meryton,” she soothed. “Uncle Gardiner seemed a risk in the beginning and then, once we had him sorted, there was Anne’s death.”

  “But we could go now, before your confinement.”

  She frowned and shook her head. “I want to see them, but I do not wish to travel until after the baby is born. We have been away from home so much since we were wed, and I just wish to remain where we are until we are forced to leave.”

  “Perhaps on our trip from Oxfordshire to Ramsgate, we can break our journey in Meryton. They would be pleased to see the baby.”

  “Aunt Philips would be thrilled to have us visit with the baby. She and Uncle Philips were never blessed, and she has fawned over every baby born into our family. We all had special shoes, hats, and gowns she would sew for us.”

  “Then it is settled,” he agreed in a triumphant tone. “We will venture to Meryton this summer. Would you like to pen them a letter and ask if they have an objection or should I?”

  She drew his face down to bestow a lingering kiss upon his lips. “I will write them.” She then placed a small peck to his nose. “Thank you.”

  “Why do you thank me?”

  “Your care for me and my family. I would imagine some might wish to ignore the connection.”

  He frowned. “I would be heartless to commit such an offense against a beloved wife.”

  “Which you are not.” She put a hand to her back and made to stand. “I should retrieve your gift from my dressing room.”

  “Do you require any help? Books can be rather heavy if there are many in the package.”

  She turned and regarded him with curiosity. “Books?”

  “Yes!” Her husband was far too smug, and she waited for the explanation that was certain to be forthcoming. “I found a very large number of books in your dressing room at Ashcroft House. I assumed they were my Christmas present, so I let them be; however, I have no wish for you to hurt yourself or the child lifting something so heavy.”

  “How kind.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, and she had to bite her bottom lip to h
old in the gales of laughter threatening to escape. He could be so haughty when he wished! “I am certain I can handle the weight, but thank you.”

  He frowned, and she waddled to her dressing room, smiling to herself; however, the trunk she had used to store his gift proved to be awkward.

  “I may require your hand after all.”

  Fitzwilliam leapt up, grabbed the handles, and carried the small trunk to where they were seated.

  “Elizabeth, this is your small trunk. I do not understand.”

  “I thought it would be more attractive than the wooden crate in which it was delivered. Hattie and I also found it easier to conceal in the luggage on our trip to Rosings and return to Sagemore.”

  He made no move to open the clasp, but instead, stared at the trunk with an odd expression.

  “Will you not open it?”

  “There are no books inside, are there?”

  Her teeth bit her bottom lip once more as he studied her reaction. “Why do you assume so?

  “The trunk is far too light for the number of books I espied in your dressing room.” He appeared so confused, and a giggle escaped before she could swallow it back down.

  “As I said before, will you not open it?”

  He started and gave a quick smile. “Oh… of course.” With a release of the clasp, he lifted the lid. His eyes widened, and he reached inside to stroke the object within with reverence.

  “Where did you purchase this?”

  She beamed and pressed herself to his side. “In London. Richard found a man who he claims makes the finest saddles in England. Whilst you were at your solicitors one day, he accompanied me to the man’s workshop, and assisted me in making the order.”

  He fingered the skirt of the saddle where a small Darcy crest was hand carved into the leather, and then grasped it around the pommel and the cantle to lift from the trunk to his lap. His hand stroked across the rich leather of the seat before returning to the crest.

  “I have never seen someone put their family crest or shield on their saddle in such a manner.”

  “The man who made it learned to carve leather in Spain in his youth. Most gentlemen purchase the saddles he has on display, but I requested this one be made for you. He asked if I wished to embellish it as it was made.”