“Err, we did move to this cottage before Georgiana arrived,” Richard carefully pointed out, but his wife was unmoved.
“And we stopped going to dinner after. And why should we spend our accounts when Mother puts out a spread to feed ten men easily, every night?”
Richard furrowed his brow as he had been in support of his wife’s anger, even finding it righteous. But now it sounded like she was about to say they would start dining with her mother at Rosings, and Richard did not care to harm his peace of mind for a portion of game pie.
“Dearest, what are you proposing?” he asked, hesitantly.
“That we take back our surrender!”
Richard cringed. This was worse than he thought. “You are not saying you wish to move back into Rosings . . . ” he trailed off, and Anne laughed as she shook her head.
“No, that would be folly. But we are going to dinner! I shall send a note over,” Anne said and stood, leaving Richard dumbfounded. He was so relieved when she said they were not moving back, he had forgotten to lodge a complaint against the plans for dinner.
Still, it was only one night, perhaps a few, and he was reasonably confident his wife would tire of the insults. His mother had been right, that when women are with children, there is no other job of the father-to-be but to make his wife happy. And so Richard would even shave for his mother-in-law’s company, and leave the cigars at home. But he would eat more than his portion of the tasty game pie when offered.
14
An unnerving sense a futility affected Fitzwilliam Darcy’s senses as his carriage dropped him at the Matlock town home. Only nine months earlier, he was there trying to arrange a marriage between his sister and that villain, George Wickham. A crisis that had first separated him from his beloved Elizabeth. And here he was, once again separated from Elizabeth, to fix another crisis, largely due to his sister’s choice of paramour. Even in death, George Wickham was a thorn in Fitzwilliam’s side.
Despite his foul mood, he graciously accepted the well wishes on his marriage from the butler, and handed over his hat and gloves upon entering the foyer. His aunt and uncle always presented a nice spread, and so he held no anxieties about enjoying a fine meal. But he predicted the night would be very long, as there was much for him to discuss and plan.
"Fitzwilliam! Always my punctual nephew," Margaret Fitzwilliam, Countess of Matlock, warmly greeted the young man that became her kin by marriage. Her husband was brother to Darcy's late mother, Anne Darcy.
"Aunt Maggie," Darcy embraced his aunt and he chuckled to see such an unbridled happiness in her face. He'd forgotten that she was one of the few allies he possessed in his nuptials to Elizabeth. The two had met under less than ideal conditions, shortly after Elizabeth had been gravely injured in Kent by her cousin, Mr. Collins.
Such a reminder prompted him to retrieve the letter for his aunt from his wife, and place it in her hand. Lady Matlock seemed amused that her new niece would use such a direct means of delivery when such resources were at her disposal. Another young woman of the Ton would be eager to demonstrate her power and position as the new Mrs. Darcy, but not the former Elizabeth Bennet.
"Have you placed your wife on such a strict allowance, Fitzwilliam, that she is unable to send post?" Lady Matlock made the jest, and Mr. Darcy laughed.
"Nay, I believe my wife is of such a sound and logical cut, that she holds no qualms in demoting me to her postmaster!" The oft-shy in strange company Fitzwilliam Darcy made a rare joke at his own expense with one of his favorite relatives.
Lady Matlock opened the letter and read the lines penned inside. She had tried to keep a straight face, like one would in a game of cards, but it turned out the new Mrs. Darcy was also quite skilled in her writing, and her comical request that the Matlocks keep Mr. Darcy out of trouble made the Countess chuckle in an outburst before she coughed and made a poor attempt to conceal the humor.
"Aunt Maggie?" Mr. Darcy craned his neck to read the letter, and Lady Matlock found another admirable quality of Elizabeth Darcy: she did not permit her husband to read all of her letters before sending them.
"It would appear your lovely wife and I are of the same mind. Prior to your arrival, you'll forgive that your uncle did discuss the events of the morning with me," Lady Matlock paused while her nephew nodded as the two of them began to walk towards the salon, "I was having my trunks prepared."
A footman slid open the doors where Lord Matlock nursed a drink, and the atmosphere turned from jubilant to dejected almost as soon as they cross the threshold.
Fitzwilliam did not wait for an invitation and walked over to the sideboard to help himself, just as James and Richard Fitzwilliam would in their parents home.
"I thought you would wish to stay in London?" Darcy presumed, before enjoying his drink.
"Mmm, yes, I should love nothing more than to attend teas and dinners where the ladies whisper conjecture about my family for another six months." Lady Matlock’s sarcasm earned a look of empathy from her nephew. "No, as I was talking with your uncle, there is really little for me to do here. And without my presence, no one would think anything amiss if your uncle is not entertaining and living the life of the enthusiastic earl," Lady Matlock explained and Fitzwilliam looked at his unhappy uncle sinking even lower in the armchair.
"The Crown has recalled Parliament,” he said, swirling his drink and then knocking the rest of it back. "We are to open in November."
The news of Parliament reopening was crushing. All afternoon, Mr. Darcy had renewed his contacts with men his father had wisely introduced him to in his early twenties, before the elder Darcy succumbed to his illness. Most of them had agreed to take a meeting with Darcy, but almost all insisted on a neutral territory such as White’s or Watier’s. With Parliament reopening, there was no question the wheels were in motion to insist on a formal investigation into the mining scandal.
But still, this did not answer about his aunt. If she were to run back to Matlock, it could be just as disastrous as staying in London for it would appear out of the ordinary. Lady Matlock had never routinely stayed in the countryside while her husband was seeing to his politics. She had been a pillar of the “little season’s” social set for two decades; her absence would not go unnoticed.
"Where shall you go, Aunt Maggie?"
Lady Matlock dearly loved her nephew, and found him to be one of the most intelligent men of her acquaintance. But sometimes, Fitzwilliam just did not understand a woman's world, and how should he? It was not a place he routinely traveled in.
"Why Pemberley, of course. I had already resolved to invite myself, and then your clever wife gave me one with a stroke of her pen." Lady Matlock beamed at her nephew, full of approval in his choice of a partner for life.
Mr. Darcy was speechless. Laid out so logically before him, he could not argue such an arrangement was not both brilliant, and necessary. No one would question Lady Matlock offering household management support to a newly married woman in her family. The more Darcy involved himself with the investigation with his uncle, the more he realized it unlikely he could return to his wife's side as soon as he had hoped.
Without a doubt, Darcy believed his wife more than capable of settling her family into their Derbyshire estate. He just disliked she would have to do it alone. But now, his aunt, who was at least familiar with Pemberley and greatly experienced in running a grand estate, would be there to support Elizabeth in all that she endeavored to do.
Fitzwilliam Darcy raised his glass in his aunt’s direction, to make a small toast. "To you, Aunt Maggie, for always helping others even when they were not aware they so desperately needed it," Darcy said and then sipped a healthy mouthful.
Due to the stress of the situation, or perhaps the months of unending chaos in their family, Lady Matlock approached her nephew, and offered him the affection of her hand upon his shoulder.
"You're welcome," she said, and then bid adieu to gentlemen as she had many preparations to make in order to leave in the mor
ning.
Without his aunt in the room, Darcy began to inventory the rest of the familiar space while he finished his drink. His uncle said little, and Darcy was unsure of how to begin. To his relief, his uncle started by handing his nephew a piece of parchment.
“I detailed the sequence of events and conversations I had with the duke,” he explained and Mr. Darcy was thoroughly impressed by the pages of notes and diagrams.
As he studied the way in which the Matlocks were twisted up into the financial dealings of Northumberland, Darcy began to reflect that he had been wrong about where his cousin Richard received all of his strategic thinking. Henry Fitzwilliam had been raised to perform as an amiable member of the peerage, respectable to those beneath him, non-threatening to those above. But the man also possessed a keen mind for puzzles, as evidenced by the lines before him.
“I was a fool! A blasted fool! I should have wondered why in the very moment of my misfortune, there was Northumberland, ready for such a generous rescue,” the earl spat, yelling at himself, not Mr. Darcy.
“Oh, give yourself more credit than that, sir,” Darcy replied, as he flipped between the pages. Conspicuously absent in the list of names his uncle had penned about the wedding between James and the duke’s shelved daughter was Northumberland’s heir, Baron Percy.
“Percy was not at his sister’s wedding?” Mr. Darcy asked, confirming the lack of his listing was not merely an oversight.
Henry Fitzwilliam shook his head.
“No, he was stuck in London, the excuse given of his acceleration,” the earl offered, repeating the same line he had swallowed.
“How very interesting. Very interesting, indeed,” Mr. Darcy said, staring off into the empty space before him.
“Nephew, my day has been long and my comforts short. My wife leaves me for yours, and I am hungry. I followed your advice and now seek satisfaction. What have you learned?” The Earl of Matlock reminded Mr. Darcy that while he afforded his younger relation respect, it only carried so far. He was not a man accustomed to waiting for anything.
Darcy grimaced. “Not much, I am afraid. Your notes here though are very helpful. I have a few interviews with a few of my father’s friends,”
“Those questioning sort from the Royal Society?”
Darcy nonchalantly nodded his head. “A few, but more importantly, I’ve heard from a close friend of the Prince Regent.”
“Not those dandies!” The earl mocked the popular name for the men who frequented Watier’s, caring more about their dress, than their substance. “How did you manage that?” his uncle asked, genuinely curious as they were notoriously snobbish and kept their circle tight based on the strangest of ideals, none of which included money, but taste. The earl would never have classified his conservatively dressed nephew to be accepted into their lot.
“Ah, a new friend taught me there is a supply of goods, particularly fabrics, that are exclusively available if you know the right importer,” Mr. Darcy hinted at Elizabeth’s relations in trade, and Henry Fitzwilliam waved him off.
“We need my son. Sons. Both of them! I do not like this business of nearly being framed for murder.”
Darcy nodded. Their family had splintered and become vulnerable.
“I shall write a letter to Richard and demand he come to London,” Henry Fitzwilliam said, feeling the matter settled, but Darcy knew better. His last letter from Richard held undertones of a great military leader no longer interested in playing out the whims and fancies of men he did not consider to be his superior.
“I agree we need Richard, but let me travel to Kent and persuade him in person. You need to go to Syon House and fetch James, and his new wife, I suppose.” Darcy suddenly realized it was unlucky there was so much need and not enough men. He would never change Lady Matlock’s plans to help Elizabeth, but it would have been nice to have her home and attract Lady Brahmington under the guise of learning her role as the future countess of Matlock.
“What if they stay in Northumberland?” his uncle countered, and Darcy shrugged.
“Then find a way, I suppose. But at the very least, meet with the Duke and play ignorant. Act as though nothing is amiss and let him believe our behavior this morning at the gaol was out of good breeding than distrust.”
The earl reluctantly agreed and then demanded that they continue discussing things over dinner.
The meal had grown tense in parts, especially as they argued whether they believed Northumberland, Derby, and Strange had concocted all of this intrigue together, or had the crafty duke taken advantage when he had seen an opening.
The earl suspected a grand conspiracy, while Darcy thought that perhaps the scandal was more a case of Sun Tzu’s philosophy. He tried to explain to his uncle the finer points of how two adversaries could become allies against a shared threat, resisting the temptation to apply it to their own circumstances. But both men grew frustrated by too much real danger in their plans and lack of hypothetical that made such philosophical discussions safe to conduct.
In the end, Mr. Darcy made sure to make his uncle feel as though he held the most important role to play in uncovering more evidence, and that he would play little more than an errand boy, fetching Richard from Kent. When the earl offered to write a letter on his behalf to his sister, Catherine, to arrange his visit, Mr. Darcy declined.
“When has she ever offered us the courtesy of advance notice?” he asked and his uncle considered the question.
“Why, never, now that I think on it.”
“Then perhaps it’s time we give her the same courtesy.”
15
The sunniest parlor at Netherfield Park was full of mirth and good company. What was to be one of the last afternoons in Hertfordshire for the Bennets and Bingleys also served as a parting farewell to little Lynn’s namesake. Jane and Elizabeth had dressed smartly in complementary cut gowns of pale blue silk for Jane, and a hunter green for Elizabeth. Their Aunt Phillips, who had come to visit, wore a respectable frock with pink flowers in poplin. Her husband did well as the county solicitor all turned to for their legal needs. But Lynn Phillips was long past wearing silks except for the rare times she visited London with her husband and they took in the theater.
"I see that my sister has continued her protest. I did wonder if she would put aside her silly notions of blame and come spend one last afternoon with me," Aunt Phillips sniffed as Jane and Elizabeth looked at one another with equal expressions of relief. To Elizabeth, although she had always known her mother to be the sister of Aunt Phillips, she had not thought about their adult relationship as sisters in comparison to her own with Jane until that very moment. Suddenly, Elizabeth felt empathy with her Aunt Phillips over her mother's behavior, but she distracted herself by spreading another teaspoon of orange marmalade on her biscuit.
"Oh I'm sure Mama did not mean to insult," Jane began to explain. "It is only that the younger girls needed additions to their wardrobes before we leave for such travel. Mama took Mary, Kitty, and Lydia to Meryton for what could be made and delivered before the end of the week." Jane's voice sounded hollow in her explanation, as the words emphasized what Lynn Phillips had said all along. There were precious few days left before the wagons and carriages would depart Netherfield Park. After six generations at Longbourn, the Bennets would be gone.
"What if you came along?" Elizabeth asked, brightly. She looked to her sister Jane for swift agreement, and her eldest sister nodded earnestly. "Help Mama settle in and come see Pemberley! Then perhaps Uncle Phillips could join us at Christmastime," Elizabeth ended wistfully, realizing that she was asking her aunt and uncle to separate much like she and her own husband were experiencing. Still, Elizabeth did know that married couples routinely spent time apart once they had been married for some years. She could not recall a time when her Aunt Phillips was not married since she had been the eldest of the Gardiner children. She thought that Aunt Phillips had married first, but she was not certain.
Lynn Phillips politely declined, pour
ing herself another cup of tea. "I'm afraid my husband cannot spare me as the last quarter of the year is busiest. Rents to collect, properties to lease. And it always seems that people wish to place their affairs in order before the winter months. I suppose the fear of illness brings such an anxiety, but your uncle always laments that few people are worried about their legacies when the sun is shining brightly in the sky."
The Bennet sisters Jane and Elizabeth laughed lightly, as they too had often heard their uncle complain much the same. The matter provided the perfect bridge into discussing what Elizabeth had most sought to confirm.
"I know that Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy have inquired, but is it certain there is no obligation to rebuild Longbourn from the entailment?" Elizabeth asked and her aunt proudly smiled.
While Lynn Phillips held no formal legal education, being married for so many decades to a country solicitor, she had naturally assisted her husband in many of the more mundane tasks of running his practice. Such an economy assisted him when money was short or a clerk could not be found. But Mrs. Phillips would never presume to offer legal advice, and she always prepared her statements thusly.
"While it is not for me to say definitively, your uncle has explained that all hinges on the fact that Mr. Collins is not your father’s son. Had you a brother to inherit the estate, then things would have been most bleak. For I believe the papers did include language of great burden upon preserving the legacy as a means of enticing the next generation to sign such a restrictive contract."
"Heir presumptive over heir apparent," Elizabeth stated the proper terms she had learned from reading her father's law books in his library. When she was younger, Elizabeth held a fantastical notion that she might find some way to break the entail so that her sister Jane might inherit. But as her Grandfather Bennet had been most careful to use the brightest legal minds in all of his dealings, there was no such hope with the entail placed upon Longbourn.
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