by Meg Osborne
“Quite!” Charles said, gaining confidence as he did so. “It is my home, after all.” He beamed. “Only...don’t be gone too long, will you?”
“Three weeks,” Darcy agreed. “Then I shall leave Richard to his happiness and return. You intend staying here for Christmas?”
“Yes.” Charles nodded. “Most likely.” He paused. “Probably. I hope to.” He sighed. “Caroline has already begun to speak of London, but I wager I can convince her to remain. The country is far preferable to the ton at Christmas.”
“Indeed it is!” Richard said, hauling himself to his feet. “And this country far preferable to Kent, at least for some of us.”
He nodded towards the window.
“I see the carriage is ready. Come along, Darcy, and we’ll say our goodbyes.”
Chapter Two
Mary ran her fingers gently over the surface of the Longbourn piano, picking out a meditative scale. Everything had changed so quickly and she wasn’t sure she was entirely happy to be leaving the only home she had ever known to embrace something so entirely new.
Marriage. She still thrilled at the word, for she had spent most of her youth in full knowledge of the fact that she might never marry. Mrs Bennet, never blessed with tact, had remarked on Mary’s plainness more than once, and that, combined with her quiet, shy nature had made marriage unlikely without considerable effort, which Mary had never been inclined to make. It was something of a shock to her, still, that Colonel Fitzwilliam had stumbled into her life one quiet day and turned her world on its head. Now she, not Jane, would marry first. She, not Lydia, had secured a husband with a rank, and she who would be the first of all the sisters to leave Longbourn.
She ended the scale before reaching the octave, leaving the unfinished seventh hanging in the air.
“Here you are!” Elizabeth's voice startled her from the doorway and Mary turned, surprised out of her reverie.
“Are you ready? It’s almost time, and the carriage shall be here soon.”
Mary took one last wistful glance towards the piano, unsure she could explain her feelings to her sister, even if she was brave enough to try. Even so, Lizzy seemed to understand her conflicted emotions without her saying a word.
“It’s only a visit, Mary, dear! And we shall see everyone again soon when they come to Kent for the wedding. You are not having second thoughts?” An expression of anxiety darkened Elizabeth's features into a frown.
“No,” Mary reassured her. “Not at all.” It was true: with as much apprehension as she felt about leaving her home and embarking on this new chapter, she did not for a moment regret answering “yes” to Colonel Fitzwilliam's proposal. He was the bravest, kindest man she had ever met, and even if he had not cared for her first, had not won her heart by noticing her when nobody else did, Mary was quite sure she would have grown to love him for his goodness of character, his wit and good humour. No, she was not doubting her decision.
“Have you and Colonel Fitzwilliam spoken of where you might make a home?” Elizabeth asked, linking her arm through Mary’s and tugging her gently towards the door.
Mary shook her head.
“He has family in the north, so we will go there after the wedding.”
Here, her heart sank. There was to be an endless round of visiting family, it seemed to her. She was never at ease meeting new people, and the thought of having to do so as somebody’s wife was even more concerning to her. She was bound to say or do something wrong and embarrass herself or, worse, Colonel Fitzwilliam, in front of his family.
“You are worrying,” Lizzy observed with a smirk. “I can tell from your face. You mustn't fret, Mary! Colonel Fitzwilliam asked you to marry him because he loves you. I hardly think you can be anything other than completely happy.”
This lifted Mary’s spirits, despite the melancholy edge to her sister’s voice. Before she could press Elizabeth on the matter, however, they heard the sound of the carriage arriving in the drive, and Jane’s voice summoned them to hurry.
“Good morning!” Mary heard Richard’s voice long before she saw him, and his comfortable tone put her instantly more at ease. He was so much more confident than she, but instead of unnerving her it gave her a little peace. He would surely handle any speaking that needed doing, and not leave her too much alone with his family. Her frown broke into a smile when they reached the corridor, and his eyes landed on her.
“Mary, dear, are you ready? We can delay an hour if you prefer to say a few more goodbyes.” His eyes crinkled with humour. “I can only apologise that our carriage is not big enough to bring your piano with you but assure you the instrument at Rosings will more than make up for it. My aunt writes to tell me she is delighted you are musical, and looks forward to hearing you play.”
Mary's nerves must have been apparent because Richard hurried to appease them.
“I promise you will not have to strike one note if you do not wish it, and certainly not until you are rested. Come, are you ready to go now?”
Mary nodded that she was, and let go of Elizabeth’s arm to take the hand that he held out to her, pausing only to bid farewell to her mother and father and Jane. Kitty and Lydia were nowhere to be found, but Mary could not bring herself to miss saying goodbye to her two youngest sisters. They had never been close, although both Lydia and Kitty had scarcely ceased from expressing, time after time, their abject shock that it was Mary who was to be married. No, she did not need her sisters’ teasing to add to her already fractured nerves.
A shadow fell over the hallway, and Mary glanced up in time to see Mr Darcy appear, some steps behind his cousin, and wearing an expression of resignation.
“Miss Elizabeth, is there anything else you wish to bring to Rosings for the visit?” he asked, his voice a mask of polite indifference.
“You are very kind, Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth said, with a courteous smile. “But all of my belongings are packed with Mary’s, and being loaded into the carriage even as we speak.”
His instinctive reaction had not gone unnoticed by Elizabeth, who was briefly her old self once more.
“You need not worry, sir, I use the term “loaded” figuratively only. You may be surprised to see how light my sister and I manage to travel, even with the consideration of Mary’s trousseau.”
“I made no comment one way or another,” Mr Darcy said, with a grimace. Turning abruptly to his cousin, he continued, “Are you ready, Richard?”
Mary and Elizabeth both were swept into a whirlwind of embraces and farewells, with Mrs Bennet actually sacrificing her campaign of silence with Elizabeth long enough to press her eldest daughter into an embrace that Elizabeth did not entirely despair of. A last farewell, a last wave, and the four young people were packed into their carriage, which rolled gently into motion.
“And so, to Kent!” Richard said, meeting Mary’s eyes and beaming. “I do hope you will like it, dear. And you, Miss Elizabeth.” He turned to Darcy, his tone teasing. “What say you, cousin? Is Rosings ready for not one but two Bennet sisters?”
“NOW, LADIES, IF YOU would be kind enough to look to your left, this is the very first glimpse we might have of Rosings.”
Elizabeth and Mary obediently did as Colonel Fitzwilliam instructed, and were rewarded by the sight of an elegant looking house, nestled in the centre of expansive grounds. Absently, Lizzy wondered just how much work went into ensuring the lawns were such a healthy shade of green, and not a single plant that appeared out of place. She smiled, ruefully, thinking of the home they had left behind them, whose gardens, though pleasant, were nowhere near as manicured as Rosings appeared to be from this first glance.
“And how long has your aunt lived here, Mr Darcy?”
Elizabeth directed her question at their second gentleman companion, for she had not been oblivious to the fact that whilst Colonel Fitzwilliam happily conversed throughout their journey on points of interest to the ladies, pausing to alert them to particular sights and places he thought worthy of their notice, Mr Darc
y had been largely silent. In fact, he had spent a great deal of the journey with his gaze averted from them, fixed on the moving scenery beyond the carriage window. Like a man en route to an execution, Lizzy had thought, with a suppressed grin. His looks reflect, almost exactly, what I would be feeling, were it not for Colonel Fitzwilliam's cheerful attempts at distraction. I know well why I feel so reluctant to be approaching Rosings: it is carefully contained in one single figure, who I have been blessed with two days’ respite from. At Mr Collins’ insistence on returning to Kent ahead of their party, Lizzy had drawn a sigh of relief, yet her contentment had been short-lived, for although accompanying Mary to Rosings meant escaping Mrs Bennet’s wrath, it also meant being thrust once more into a circle with her cousin. Still, Lizzy was determined to survive the trial, and felt rather better equipped to refuse Mr Collins again, should he be stupid enough to propose despite knowing her abject loathing for him, with a few friends for support rather than her mother’s interfering attentions. Still, now that she was faced with the knowledge they would reach their destination in just a few moments more, her courage began to falter. She kept her feelings under guard, but only just. What, then, was Mr Darcy’s excuse for looking so unhappy to reach Kent?
“She has lived in Rosings all her married life,” Mr Darcy said, shortly. “But the house was known to her since she was a child. I am sure she will delight in telling you of its history, Miss Elizabeth, if you wish to ask her.”
There was something that might have been a glimmer of amusement in Darcy's eyes, but when Lizzy opened her mouth to press him on it, the look vanished, and he was himself once more. Himself, and silent. Lizzy turned to Colonel Fitzwilliam, and noted a momentary look of frustration he turned towards his cousin.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam, you are very kind to allow me to accompany my sister on this visit.”
“Kind, nothing!” Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed. “I knew Mary would want for a companion, and I rather fancy you will make an interesting addition to my aunt’s dining table. What do you think, Darcy, will Miss Elizabeth hold her own against the tenacity of the de Bourgh inquisition?”
Elizabeth laughed, but felt a tiny pinprick of anxiety at what lay before them. Mary's fears were still more apparent, and she appeared even paler than usual, until Lizzy pinched her on the arm. Mary looked up at her, and Lizzy smiled, silently willing her to relax. Never fear, Mary. I am sure she cannot be a patch on Mother, and we both survived almost two decades in her house unscathed. She sighed. Relatively unscathed.
“Are you tired, Miss Elizabeth?”
It took Lizzy a moment to realise it was Mr Darcy and not his cousin who addressed her, and so her response came rather more flustered than she intended.
“Oh, no.” She smiled. “Not really. It has been such a pleasant journey.”
“If only the same could be said of the company!” Richard said, drolly. He nudged his cousin with his elbow, and turned back to Mary, intent on explaining some point of the local geography to her, as the carriage drew still nearer to Rosings.
“My cousin feels that silence must always be filled,” Mr Darcy remarked, with a grimace. “He does not perceive any value in quiet, particularly in preparation for a trial.”
“And what trial do you face?” Lizzy asked, taking his comment for humour, at first. When he did not return her smile, but frowned still more sternly, she reconsidered her supposition. “Forgive me, I did not realise you accompanied us under duress.”
“Not duress,” he clarified. “It is my duty to call on my aunt, a duty I have neglected more than I ought to have of late.” He smiled, shortly. “My cousin seeks to rectify the matter, and as he wished to travel with a party, encouraged me to join you.” His face was all seriousness once more. “I am, of course, glad to be of any service I can to your sister, on the occasion of their engagement. Or -” his voice dropped, so low that Elizabeth had to stoop a little nearer to catch his words. “Or to you, Miss Elizabeth. I hope - I hope you will not hesitate to come to me for assistance, should you - were you to ever require it.”
Lizzy had the impression it had cost him a great deal to speak these few short words, and had read a fervency in their uttering that surprised her. Their eyes met, and she felt a flash of understanding. He refers to Mr Collins, I am sure of it! Lizzy flushed with embarrassment, heat seeping into her cheeks. Does he disapprove of me as well? She recalled the scolding she had received from Charlotte - her dear friend Charlotte! - who had so pointedly and pragmatically taken Mr Collins’ part in the dilemma, and prompted Lizzy to accept his offer, for her family’s sake if not for her own. Surely Mr Darcy was of a like mind, for she doubted he would ever begin to understand her feeling that one ought to marry for love, or at the very least friendship. It was mercenary to think only of money, of security, and whilst she did not think of herself as so practical a person, she could hardly imagine the same true for the gentleman seated across from her.
“You are very kind, Mr Darcy,” she said, quietly. “But I cannot imagine myself in need of any assistance you might offer.”
Chapter Three
“Richard!” Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s greeting was more of a squawk than a welcome, but Richard knew when a summons required a response, and if ever one did, it was this.
“Aunt Catherine!” He rushed forward, with a polite bow that was immediately dismissed by his elevated aunt, who stood two feet shorter than him and easily twice as wide. “How do you fare, Aunt?”
“I would fare a good deal better if you kept to the time you promised.” Lady Catherine shot a scathing glance at him, before nodding towards the clock on the mantel. “You are an hour later than I expected you. We have been waiting all that time, never knowing if you were merely delayed or if some accident had befallen you!”
“We can only apologise -” Richard began, glancing over his shoulder to see how the rest of his party reacted to Lady Catherine's greeting. Before he had the chance to formulate an excuse, Darcy stepped forward.
“You must recall, Aunt, that we were travelling with guests. You could hardly expect two young ladies to travel so quickly as two gentlemen. Forgive us for causing you concern, but I assure you it was merely an attempt to ensure our entire party travelled as comfortably as possible.”
Richard felt a flare of anxiety, worried that Darcy's comment would do nothing but transfer their aunt's ire from her nephews to their guests. Fortunately, his cousin understood their aunt better than he, because, at the mention of the young ladies, Lady Catherine's frown eased.
“And are they now to be left standing awkwardly in the doorway?” She lifted her chin. “Introduce us, Richard. Which one of you is Mary Bennet?”
“I - I am, Lady Catherine.”
Mary had gone white, but nonetheless stepped forward with all the courage she could muster. Richard felt a flash of affection for his young bride, for facing a foe so bravely when she clearly wished to be anywhere other than where she was.
“Well, come closer, dear, that I may speak to you without shouting across the room.” She glared at Richard. “Fetch a chair, and allow the poor girl to sit down, Richard.”
Swallowing a grin, Richard did as he was instructed, and gestured to Mary to sit near to Lady Catherine. After a moment, Darcy half-heartedly mirrored his cousin’s movements, and Elizabeth cautiously accepted her own seat.
“So, you are the young lady who has captured my nephew's heart.” Lady Catherine was regarding Mary carefully, over her eyeglasses, but there was the hint of a smile about her features, so Richard had the suspicion that she was not unhappy with what she saw. “I confess, I did not anticipate him deciding so suddenly to marry.” She arched an eyebrow. “And are you an accomplished young lady? Do you sing?”
“A little,” Mary began, darting a glance over to Elizabeth.
“Mary is an accomplished pianist, Aunt,” Richard said, affectionately. “In fact, it was in playing music that I first met her, and scared the poor girl half to death.”
&nb
sp; “Oh?”
“The Bennets are neighbours of Darcy’s friend, Charles Bingley.” Richard clarified. “And so our paths crossed many times.”
“I see.” Lady Catherine turned towards Elizabeth. “And you are -?”
“My sister,” Mary said. “Elizabeth.”
A muscle tightened in Lady Catherine's jaw, and Richard felt the urge to laugh, which he quickly and expertly quelled. She might be unreadable to many, but Richard fancied he could imagine plainly what was occurring in Lady Catherine's Machiavellian brain. One young lady betrothed to the nephew she herself had no plans for was perfectly acceptable. A little disappointing, certainly, that she was not an eldest daughter from a known family, and lacking in a dowry, but neat and accomplished enough that that might be overlooked. Richard was, after all, merely a Colonel and could hardly expect more. That this young lady possessed a sister and a sister who had been neighbour to her other nephew for some time, well that might prove to be a cause for concern.
“You are married?” she queried.
Elizabeth coloured slightly, and shook her head.
“Elizabeth...” Lady Catherine chewed thoughtfully over the name, before her eyes lit up. “Of course. You are to wed my curate, Mr Collins. I recall the name now.”
Elizabeth blanched, and an uncomfortable silence settled over the party.
“Actually -” she began.
“Nothing is settled at present, Aunt,” Richard said, smoothly. “I rather fear that Mr Collins has spoken out of turn if that is the impression he has given you.”
“You suggest my curate is less than truthful?” Lady Catherine asked.
“Not untruthful, merely mistaken.”
“I find it hard to believe that a gentleman could be mistaken over whether he is to be married or not.” Lady Catherine sniffed. “Surely there are but two answers a young lady might give to the question of marriage.” She peered over her eye-glasses at Elizabeth. “And if that lady is without a great many distinguishments or prospects, I would venture to suggest there is but one answer.”
