"Not you too?" Darcy asked, and his uncle closed his eyes and slowly nodded.
"My son speaks wisdom on this. It is clear they will use whatever means available to them to foster conjecture and confusion. You came to London when you're home was attacked, and that is very rational. I do fear if you stay . . . continue to take meetings with old associates of your father's . . . it will provide too much opportunity for our enemies to cast you in an unbecoming light." Placing his empty glass upon the table, the earl pressed the fingertips of his hands together to make a point as sharp as the top of a pyramid. Richard decided to aid his father in convincing Darcy.
But Fitzwilliam felt his anger rising, and so he did not listen as his cousin continued with the reasons for why he must leave.
“While I appreciate your counsel, and realize that I am not the only one in danger here, I might remind you that my house was the only one attacked. Before I make any decision as to how I will best protect my family in the future, I require sleep." Darcy placed his empty glass upon the table, then addressed Richard specifically. "Come see me in the morning. I shall give my decision then."
After Darcy left, the two Fitzwilliam men drowned their frustrations with another round of drinks. After the third and fourth round, father and son were well past burying the hatchet, and sloppily telling each other stories from their youth.
Near dinnertime, Anne Fitzwilliam found both men sleeping off the effects of their reunion. She laughed at the commonalities between the way father and son both slept in chairs, their mouths slightly open with drool dribbling down their chin. Both held the uncanny habit of draping their left arm to hang down, while the right crossed over their chest.
"Should I serve dinner, Mrs. Fitzwilliam?" the butler asked but Anne declined.
"Have a tray sent up to my room, and have their valets wake them in two hours time that they both might be sent to bed.”
"Yes, my lady," the butler answered,
Anne felt stronger by the immediate deference granted to her by the Matlock staff. She tiptoed over to her husband’s sleeping form, and kissed his cheek, but he did not rouse. She left the study, took a deep breath and then walked across the hall to another room, the small library. Here, she inspected the shelves of books, and selected a new novel for her own entertainment. As far as Anne Fitzwilliam was concerned, after such a long day of travel, there was nothing nicer than a meal and a good story to keep one company.
23
Mr. Darcy had made his decision the night prior, but waited for his cousin and guests to arrive before departing for his estate in Derbyshire. As he predicted, all three men arrived at the appointed hour of nine o’clock in the morning, and he ushered them into his study for quick introductions.
“Richard, you know Dr. Matthews, and this is his colleague, Dr. John Sims. I wished to have this interview so you might meet the doctor who can take over care of your wife,” Mr. Darcy explained, as Richard began to anger. The old man next to Dr. Matthews did not impress him.
“Pardon me, Dr. Sims, but there is no need for a new physician for my wife,” Richard countered, but shook the man’s hand, nonetheless.
Dr. Matthews coughed. He looked at Darcy rather incredulous that he had not warned his cousin. Dr. Sims, at sixty and three, was a long respected and admired authority of obstetrics.
“I’m afraid there is. I am leaving with Mr. Darcy to Pemberley to offer care to Mr. Bennet and the surrounding countryside as needed,” Dr. Matthews explained.
Richard began to ask his cousin for a private word, but Darcy refused.
“Truthfully, Richard, Anne’s case is best handled by Dr. Sims. He has far more experience than Dr. Matthews in delivering women where complications exist.”
Richard still crossed his arms in front of his chest, skeptical. “We came to London in part for Anne to receive Dr. Matthews’ care.”
“If I may,” Dr. Sims said, and he received a nod from Dr. Matthews and Mr. Darcy, but no such approval from the former colonel. Still, the man continued. “For thirty-two years, I have been appointed physician and male mid-wife at the Charity for Delivering Poor Married Women in their homes. I have lost count of the babes I have delivered in my lengthy career, but from what I understand from Dr. Matthews, your wife suffers from bouts of bronchial spasms, impairing her ability to breathe?”
Richard nodded, still uncomfortable such an important decision concerning his wife’s care had been made without his input.
“Ah yes, I know it well. Such affliction can cause the mother to cease breathing during delivery and the effects during the term of gestation on the child routinely yields a babe that is low in birth weight,” the elder Dr. Sims remarked, taking a seat near Mr. Darcy’s desk.
“Richard, everything I learned about women and childbirth is from studying under Dr. Sims. My interests, however, lie with the miraculous ways our brains and nervous systems work together. I generally practice well in all areas of medicine, but if my wife was expecting, it would be Dr. Sims I begged to perform the delivery,” Dr. Matthews endorsed his mentor with the utmost sincerity.
Feeling slightly convinced, Richard took a seat next to Dr. Sims, and began to ask him questions about diet and restrictions for a woman in Anne’s condition. As Dr. Sims laughed and explained to the nervous young father that he had long learned to leave the business of nurturing the child to the women, he was only there to direct efforts once active labor began.
As the two men continued to talk, Mr. Darcy politely interrupted them to allow himself and Dr. Matthews to take their leave.
“I have instructed Mrs. Potter to leave you free reign over the home, and if you and Anne should need respite, you are always welcome here,” Darcy gave his cousin the normal rights to his house and holdings as he always did.
“Yes, yes, send word when you are safely arrived and tell my mother I send my greetings,” Richard said, as he wished to know more about Dr. Sims and his care for Anne.
As Dr. Matthews and Mr. Darcy boarded the waiting carriage, already packed with both men’s trunks, a second vehicle joined the line. The wagon was full of packages and parcels, and a few large wooden crates.
Dr. Matthews gestured to the wagon rather perplexed.
“Never arrive empty-handed when you are arriving late. A lesson I learned from my father,” Darcy explained, as they each took a bench across from the other.
“Wise. But didn’t Mrs. Darcy know you would be travelling to London?”
“Yes,” Mr. Darcy answered, “but I was not there to carry her over the threshold for the first time as she took her place as Mrs. Darcy. And for that, I shall always be guilty. But gifts,” Mr. Darcy held up a finger to place emphasis on his plan, “gifts make it very difficult for anyone to remain angry for long.”
24
Exhausted, exasperated, and expended, the long caravan of Mrs. Darcy, the Bingleys, and the Bennets arrived midmorning in front of the grand house of Pemberley. Only Elizabeth and Mr. Bingley held the pleasure of seeing the house before, and so for a few moments, Mrs. Bingley and the Bennet women simply gawked at the majestic marble columns that greeted them.
"La, Lizzie, you didn't tell us it was a palace!" Lydia exclaimed as she clung to the arm of her sister, Mary. Elizabeth giggled as she whispered something to Higgins and then walked up the steps to greet Mrs. Reynolds personally.
"Was everything managed from my letters?" Mrs. Darcy asked conspiratorially, and the longtime housekeeper of Pemberley nodded eagerly.
"Welcome home, Mrs. Darcy. I'm so sorry the master is not with you, but I believe he is to leave London soon." As Elizabeth squeezed the hands of the housekeeper in greeting and then abandoned her to enter the foyer, she left Mrs. Reynolds to bark her orders and usher her family inside.
But for Elizabeth, a bittersweet taste of regret stung her heart. She stepped into the grand marble foyer with its black and gray checkered floor to twirl around and take in the splendid display. She had crossed the threshold of her home as Mrs. Dar
cy for the first time. Alone. As soon as the emotion had struck her, she shuffled it aside. Such melancholy was a waste of energy when one was the wife of Fitzwilliam Darcy. And she would focus on the joys and benefits of her position, most especially in what she would get to do next.
Charles Bingley caught Elizabeth’s eye, and the man touched his nose with his forefinger then pointed at Mrs. Darcy. That was the signal all was well and their plan was afoot. Mr. Bingley steered Jane and the children in one direction, while Elizabeth assembled her three sisters and mother in another.
"Welcome to Pemberley," she began. "Although Fitzwilliam is not with us, he and I were both emphatically agreed that this home is to be your home. When we visited before marrying in Scotland, it was our dearest wish that the home could be full of life again," Elizabeth said.
"Well it looks like you've received your wish," Kitty remarked, her neck craned as far back as she could manage to take in every detail of the frescoes on the ceiling. Elizabeth followed her sister's gaze and gaped in astonishment. Abstractly she had been aware of the painting above her, but only now with her artistic sister in residence did she take in the scenes of a bountiful harvest with cherubs and other Greek mythological figures.
"Which one is my room?" Lydia asked, drawing Elizabeth’s attention back to her mischief.
Elizabeth began to go up the stairs and then stopped, forcing her mother and sisters to pause on the first step.
"The home has over 300 rooms. I will confess to you now that I have not visited all of them. However, I have instructed the staff to ready a number of spaces for our family. First is Mama," Elizabeth said triumphantly and she reached out her hand to her mother. To everyone's surprise, Mrs. Bennet took Elizabeth’s hand and they ascended the stairs together.
Elizabeth continued to explain that they would primarily occupy the eastern wing of the house, with the family living in two stories. "In time, we can move my sisters down to the second floor, but there were not suitable accommodations for them unless you’d like your furnishings to look 100 years older or more?” Elizabeth asked over her shoulder with a ghoulish expression and her sisters laughed.
"Is my suite on the third floor? I should dearly hope not, as that is quite a number of stairs," Mrs. Bennet began to fret, but Elizabeth patted her hand.
"No, Mama, your room is next to Papa’s. We redesigned the rooms from Mr. Darcy’s and Miss Darcy’s youth to add an adjoining door, and I hope you will find the styling to your taste.” Elizabeth and her party entered the room quickly as the footmen bringing Mr. Bennet up stairs were right behind them. They were under the guidance of Mrs. Reynolds directly, so Elizabeth rested knowing that her father would be well sorted.
The living arrangement placed the Bennets in the first suite of rooms of the eastern wing of the home. Mrs. Bennet's room did not look like a room for young girl, but the light lavender and lilac coloring was preserved. Upon spying her favorite color, Mrs. Bennet had tears well at the edges of her eyes. Elizabeth introduced her mother to a personal maid, named Nancy, and Mrs. Bennet graciously accepted the young woman's guidance in touring her new wardrobe and washroom.
When she reached the vanity carved with accents of mahogany and white oak, her fingers shook as she touched the tortoise-shell brush set laid out upon the counter. Curious, she looked to her daughter.
“They are not the same,” she explained, and Mrs. Bennet seemed to take a breath. But Elizabeth continued, “I wrote a most detailed description and the jeweler in the village was able to fabricate a similar set. Kitty also enclosed a sketch.”
Mrs. Bennet whispered her thanks. Her set had originally been a gift from her father when she was a girl. Like many of their other possessions, the comb and brush set had been destroyed in the fire.
When Elizabeth was satisfied that her mother had been placated, she explained to her that she would show the other girls their rooms.
"Yes, do that, and then please come fetch me for tea. I'm afraid I will get lost," Mrs. Bennet said, as her daughters giggled and left their mother to explore her new accommodations.
For the remaining girls’ rooms, Elizabeth showed them to the third floor, and all three paused at the grand windows at the end of the wing looking out across the park. They could see a number of deer running across the open fields, and the leaves were just turning for they neared the end of October.
"We were so silly, Lizzie. I was so wrong," Lydia began her penance, but Elizabeth only smiled at her sister.
"Mary, I placed you and Lydia next to each other. Follow me." Elizabeth showed how another suite with adjoining rooms was decorated especially for her two sisters that had remained at Longbourn. Mary's room was decorated in verdant greens, with touches of velvet and gold. Elizabeth pointed out the writing desk with a journal and a number of religious texts selected from the library downstairs.
Mary carefully picked up a leather bound volume and traced the title with her finger.
In disbelief she read it out loud, "Critical remarks on the Hebrew Scripture?"
Elizabeth nodded. "And there are so many more down below. I also instructed the staff to set for you a small prayer bench by the window," and Elizabeth pointed out the dainty upholstered piece of furniture knee-high for Mary's use. "There is also a small chapel in the west wing, I am told. However, it has long been neglected and I was hoping that in your time here you might assist me in bringing it back into normal use," Elizabeth said and Mary nodded. But then she had a question.
"But who is the parson?" Mary asked and Elizabeth shrugged.
"I am told there is a small parish for the village, and the chapel here for the tenants closest to the main house has not been used in over a generation. Certainly, we have a living, and we could take interviews, but let’s begin that process when Mr. Darcy's home." Elizabeth reasoned and her most pious sister agreed.
Impatiently, Lydia asked again to see her room. Elizabeth made a grand show of opening the adjoining door from Mary's suite to a sunny vista of yellows and whites. Lydia's room had the companion writing desk to Mary's, but instead of religious texts, Elizabeth had instructed for a number of novels to be brought up for Lydia's use.
"I have insured that they include romances and mysteries, and even a few ghost stories," Elizabeth said and Lydia attempted to be unaffected, but her eyes widened as large as saucers while gazing at all of the titles. Elizabeth also took care to introduce the maid that Lydia and Mary would share, a young woman named Jenny, and the two sisters seemed at peace with the arrangement. As Elizabeth was showing the new wardrobe and unique space to trim her bonnets and other accessories as Lydia was accustomed to doing, when finally, the fact that Kitty had been left for last made Lydia question how she was missing out.
"Why doesn't Kitty share a maid with us?" Lydia asked, most annoyingly. Mary chided her, but Elizabeth didn't mind the impertinence.
"It was unavoidable, you see. The wing stretches the length of this corridor. Your rooms are just above my suite with Mr. Darcy. Kitty is at the other end over Mama and Papa. And there is a hidden set of stairs to get there from the second floor. It would be undue work for a maid to rush between three suites of rooms with such a long hallway in between."
After leaving Mary and Lydia to explore their rooms, as both of them politely declined to see Kitty’s until later, Elizabeth felt she had left truly the best for last. Finally in the hall alone, Elizabeth clasped Kitty’s hand and squeezed it.
"I hope you do not mind I did not place you next to them," Elizabeth began to explain and Kitty shook her head.
Both girls dashed down the hall like young misses, and Elizabeth breathlessly opened the door to Kitty’s suite that was decorated from floor-to-ceiling in a variety of floral patterns that all coordinated most expertly.
"I had to place you down here, for the sunlight will be to its best advantage during the day and instead of a sister in your adjoining room," Elizabeth paused as Kitty’s maid Mathilde was waiting for them in the suite.
"You have an adjoining studio," Elizabeth said and the door was opened to reveal a wide space full of easels, a large working table, and all of the art supplies Kitty could ever imagine.
"Why, there's enough here for an entire shop!" Kitty exclaimed and Elizabeth nodded.
"Yes, I assigned Fitzwilliam the task of sending as many art supplies as he possibly could the moment we heard about Longbourn's unfortunate fire."
Elizabeth had wished to spend more time with Kitty going over the finer points of her room, but her maid Higgins appeared with a message.
"What is it?" Kitty asked
In her excitement, Elizabeth responded "The best news, no," she stopped herself and re-explained, "the second best news. Lady Matlock has arrived!"
It took some time for Elizabeth and Higgins, with Kitty in tow, to return to the first floor where Lady Matlock and Mrs. Reynolds were in a long discussion in the foyer.
As Elizabeth Darcy descended the stairs, Lady Matlock turned and looked up at her hostess making a small clap with her hands.
"Brava, Mrs. Darcy, brava indeed!" Lady Matlock greeted Elizabeth at the bottom of the stairs and her sister Kitty stood silently awestruck that a countess was so familiar with her sister.
"We have just arrived, and I'm afraid you have caught us rather out of sorts," Elizabeth said, but Lady Matlock waved such silly problems away.
"Nonsense, I was just discussing with Mrs. Reynolds here that I can take my normal suite of rooms in the west wing. It shall place me next to the Bingleys, and I am so anxious to make their acquaintance," Lady Matlock said loud enough for those to hear.
As she and Elizabeth walked up the stairs, however, Lady Matlock asked conspiratorially if the dreadful Bingley sister Caroline had also tagged along and Elizabeth shook her head.
"No, it appears that she has been put on the shelf, as they say, and joined her aunt in Scarborough," Elizabeth gave the preferred explanation for why Caroline Bingley had so swiftly dropped out of London society.
The Miracles of Marriage Page 13
