A second curtain began to fall, and Elizabeth Darcy burst into applause. The other guests soon joined, and Mrs. Darcy craned her neck to see how such an intricate rigging system for the curtains was managed. Her husband smirked as he watched her and he finally took pity on her.
"The head gardener was once a sailor before he decided land was more fitting than the seas. He helped the footmen rig a system of pulleys for the curtains," Mr. Darcy whispered as Elizabeth beamed at him.
Another hour was spent happily as Kitty, Robert, and Georgiana, with support from many maids and other servants, performed each folly to rousing applause. As the performances concluded, candelabras throughout the room were swiftly lit, and the actors and audience mingled over port and refreshments.
"Which one was your favorite? Tell me, oh please!" Kitty gushed as she came to her sister Elizabeth in her last costume of the night, a pearlescent gown with gold highlights in every trim. Elizabeth could hardly believe how grown up her younger sister appeared, blossoming before her very eyes into such an accomplished young woman.
"Well, I admired your ferocity as Aura, Goddess of the Wind, but I must say, your spider and the bee folly was a pure delight," Elizabeth explained, her eyes misty as she wished for a moment her father could have seen Kitty's triumph. A strong kick in her abdomen reminded her of one guest she did not think about being present, and she laughed. "I may have enjoyed the bee folly the most, if only because the subject matter was most satisfying." Elizabeth gazed past her sister to Alistair Darcy, seemingly attached at the hip to her mother.
Suddenly, a thought crossed Elizabeth's mind, and she addressed her sister in a solemn tone.
"Kitty, would you like to perform your follies for a larger audience?"
Kitty nearly choked on her glass of wine. "A larger audience? I am not sure, that is," she turned to catch the attention of Robert Fitzwilliam, who suddenly began to walk towards Kitty. With him close, she felt brave enough to question her sister's meaning. "How large of an audience?"
Robert took a protective stance just behind Kitty, and Elizabeth was slightly taken aback by the similarity of care he displayed to how her husband behaved when they were engaged. "Remember when you came to talk to me about," Elizabeth's mouth suddenly grew dry as she could not manage to say Lydia's name.
Kitty nodded, understanding her sister's silence.
Elizabeth took a deep breath and tried again, this time with a forced smile. "I want to dance. I want to hold a ball before this little one comes and I'm devoting all of my time to the nursery."
"A ball is a splendid idea! And you'd wish us to perform for the guests?" Robert Fitzwilliam spoke loudly enough that his parents and Mr. Darcy took notice of the conversation.
Just as Robert had done with Kitty, Elizabeth soon had her own chivalrous knight standing stoically behind her. He leaned forward and whispered, "Is this wise, my dear, so near to your time?"
Spinning around, up on her tiptoes to increase her stature, Elizabeth Darcy addressed her husband with a genuine smile. "Oh, I cannot speak to the wisdom, but I wish to dance Fitzwilliam. Here, at Pemberley, with you. Before . . ." emotion began to niggle in the back of her throat as Elizabeth wrapped her arms around her husband in a rare display of outright affection before their family. Stunned, Mr. Darcy could do naught but embrace her in return as their families looked on.
Lady Matlock, realizing the tide could go either way, raised her glass.
"To a ball at Pemberley," she said, receiving a rather dashed look from her nephew. This made Lady Matlock chortle. "Fear nothing, Darcy. Your wife has four willing helpers and your very capable staff. This will be the least stressful ball any mistress of Pemberley has ever thrown."
Elizabeth released her husband and gave Lady Matlock a grateful look.
"Thank you, Aunt Margaret," she said, the first time she had bestowed such an endearing term on the woman. Elizabeth had most recently been very cross with her husband’s aunt over her sister Jane's experiences in London and Margaret Fitzwilliam's covert spying on the London household.
The Countess of Matlock nodded, and the sexes soon began to part naturally within the large drawing room. The ladies led Mrs. Darcy to a far corner where she could sit, and they could start their plans, while the men surrounded Mr. Darcy. Unfortunately, both Alistair and Robert were much in favor of the diversion so only Lord Matlock could offer his nephew any sort of commiseration.
Chapter 7
The morning after the follies, the entire household required a longer lie in than usual. Mrs. Darcy opened her eyes to her husband, lying on his back, snoring away with his dark, brunette curls tapering down his forehead and around his ear. Scrunching up her nose as she rolled to her right side properly, she groaned as her ligaments stretched to accommodate the shifting weight in her midsection.
"What? Is it the babe? Are you well?" Mr. Darcy exclaimed at hearing his wife's slightest distress, though his eyes were still closed.
"I'm perfectly well, William!" Elizabeth managed as she took a deep breath. Somehow the adjustment had repositioned the baby in a manner that crowded her lungs. She closed her eyes and laid a flat palm on the crest of her swollen belly, willing the child to move. Fitzwilliam gently rolled toward his wife, his hands joining hers to offer aid, though he did not know what the problem was.
"Is there pain?" his baritone voice sounded louder as he was awake at last. To Elizabeth's relief, the baby stirred at the added pressure and perhaps his father's voice, but either way, she could breathe more easily.
"This ball is a mistake," her husband continued.
Elizabeth sighed. "I am not in pain. There was discomfort. I'm afraid this child will be here sooner than later, but the ball is not a mistake. The full moon is next week, and we began the invitations last night. The farthest estates have already dispatched this morning, and today we will finish those closer to home."
Elizabeth silently thanked Mr. Darcy's aunt, Lady Matlock, for insisting they aim for the next full moon and not a month later. She wasn't sure the babe would wait until next month.
"But that is just before Easter? Surely we cannot expect many to come," Mr. Darcy rationalized.
Elizabeth smirked. "Is that all the faith you place in my hosting skills?" She laughed as he stumbled to ply her with compliments before she granted him a reprieve. "I do not want a grand ball, dear. Just a ball, before . . ." she looked down at her hand and his, still protectively placed on her midsection.
Mr. Darcy leaned his forehead against hers. "Do you fear?"
Elizabeth bit her lower lip, afraid to give words to her worst fears. So instead, she declared her most fervent prayers. "I shall not be like Lydia. But are we not called to rejoice each and every day we are granted? Not one of us is promised tomorrow. But of that day and hour knoweth no man . . . "
"No, not even the angels," Mr. Darcy whispered. He lifted his chin and pulled Elizabeth into an embrace, as much as he could manage with her expected to give birth in less than two month's time. He calmly reflected how that was another mystery of the Lord; the day and time of a child's birth.
Before either could speak again, a knock sounded on the door. Husband and wife looked at each other puzzled, as both of their servants never knocked anymore and had long seen them both in many states of undress. To be safe, Darcy called for their visitor to wait while he helped Elizabeth into her robe, and donned his own. Finally, he called for whoever it was to enter.
"My apologies, sir, but I could not locate your man. I have just received a message from the main gate that an unexpected carriage has arrived." The new butler, Mr. James Cowles, explained his diversion from his initial training.
Mr. Darcy stood and held out his hand as Elizabeth moved to sit up to signal she not bother herself. "The livery?"
Cowles blanched. "The House of de Bourgh, sir."
"Oh heavens!" Elizabeth exclaimed as she ignored her husband's wishes she stay in bed and rolled to her side. "Have Mrs. Reynolds prepare the green suite."
"The green suite, ma'am?" The butler asked, looking confused.
"Forgive me, the Matlocks are there. The... no, not the blue one either," Elizabeth began to run through the various suites of rooms in the house that were in a proper state to host guests. That was one of the tasks to tackle before the full moon. The house had gone so long without social engagements of a grand scale, some rooms boasted furnishings and linens from over forty years ago when Mr. Darcy's parents first wed. Long out of fashion and not inspected with regularity, there was no telling the state of any of it.
Realizing she couldn't think of any other suite because she still did not have the whole house memorized, Elizabeth looked to her husband. "Mr. Darcy? Do you have a suggestion?"
Mr. Darcy frowned. "Ready no rooms, not until we see who it is. If it is Cousin Anne, she may seek refreshment in Mrs. Darcy's suite if necessary."
"Very well, sir," the butler left to find Mrs. Reynolds, regretting that he was now tasked with an errand fit for any maid to relay.
"Fitzwilliam, what if it's your aunt? We cannot deny her board," Elizabeth cautioned.
"We certainly may deny any and all. This is our house, as you have repeatedly pointed out. Besides, I thought you wished for an empty house." Mr. Darcy began pulling bell cords as Elizabeth smirked.
Suddenly, he dashed around the bed and opened the door to call out down the hall. Only, the butler was gone and instead, Mr. Darcy had the unpleasant opportunity to spy one of his guests far down the hall, leaving a room. His uncle, Alistair Darcy, calmly walked away from Mrs. Bennet's suite of rooms in the same attire he wore the night before.
With a scowl, Darcy watched as his philanderous uncle turned the corner, unaffected by any concern of detection.
“Fitzwilliam?” Elizabeth’s voice reminded him of the other pressing matter.
Darcy stepped back into his suite and closed the door.
“Did you catch him?” she asked as she walked around the bed towards the adjoining door between their rooms.
“No, but it is no matter.” Fitzwilliam gently waved his hand to comfort his wife just as her maid appeared in the doorway between their rooms, ready to help her mistress with her toilette. Elizabeth paused and looked at her husband expectantly. Quickly, he devised an explanation. “I was merely calling for a tray to be brought up since we will unlikely break our fast.”
Elizabeth nodded at his plan and finally followed her maid into her private dominion of the household.
Alone for a moment, Mr. Darcy closed his eyes and counted as high as he could until his man arrived to help his master. When counting would not relieve his ire, he reviewed the plans for the planting that was in progress, wishing he might ride out and inspect the fields himself if he wasn’t so concerned about Elizabeth.
Naturally, the gossip of Mrs. Bennet and Uncle Alistair and the mysterious carriage already carried in whispers from hall boys to junior maids, and Mr. Darcy’s man understood his master to be under enormous pressure. In the span of just half a year, the house of Pemberley had gone from a dormant relic to a bustling hive of drama. Hardly any of the occupants possessed the experience to cope.
Mr. Gardiner stared at the open sidewalk before his carriage on Oxford Street while his footman waited patiently for his employer to disembark. Swallowing hard, Mr. Gardiner slid his body across the bench and handed his walking stick out the door. Using both hands on the newly fastened handles along the doorframe, he cautiously stood on the first step with his good leg, gently placed weight on his bad leg, and used his arms to lessen the load on his bad foot before his good one hopped down to the last step. As Edward reached for his walking stick, he took his final step with his bad leg. The ornate fashion accessory provided much-needed dignity since his accident, but Mr. Gardiner was still thankful he could walk to his appointment with his solicitor.
"Thank you, Henry," Mr. Gardiner said to the young footman who handed his employer his top hat before scrambling onto the back of the carriage. Mr. Gardiner told his driver to return in one hour, then turned around and sighed at the daunting flight of steps up into the building. Perhaps his pride against a sedan chair was folly after all.
It felt as though the entire town of London fell under some great spell of reconstruction. Edward Gardiner distracted himself from the onerous task of taking the stairs slowly and deliberately by recounting all of the homes of his friends he had seen remodeled in the last year. Madeline had asked for him to raise the topic with his solicitor, but Edward felt their family had endured enough disharmony in the previous year that they did not need wall movers and plasterers in their humble home.
Despite his new affliction that remained from his carriage accident the previous year, Mr. Gardiner was never late for an appointment. The same was true for today, and so he only waited in the foyer a few minutes before being ushered into Mr. Sandbach's office.
"Edward!" Mr. Sandbach held out a hand to greet his client. Edward and John Sandbach had grown to know each other well over the decade-plus that John had been managing the Gardiner affairs. An old classmate of the deceased Robert Bennet, the connection was afforded to the Gardiner family after Robert married Edward’s sister, Fanny.
"I had just been reading the arrival announcement for your vessel. Was she not due to arrive in two weeks?"
Edward Gardiner smirked. He nodded.
"Arrived last week." Mr. Gardiner accepted a cup of tea from the young maid who served both men before discreetly leaving the office.
John Sandbach sat back in his chair and marveled at the man in front of him. "Last week? You managed to find a sea captain who brings goods back ahead of schedule?"
Mr. Gardiner shook his head and took a sip of the excellently strong brew in his hand. "Time and tide wait for no man. Nor can I bend the seas to my will. I can, however, report different dates of expected arrival to both improve the confidence of my investors and avoid any premeditated curiosity over my goods."
Over the past ten years, Gardiner's Imports and Exports had expanded through the careful investing of Edward, Mr. Bennet, and a few other gentlemen who wished to remain anonymous. From the small warehouse owned by Mr. Gardiner's father, the business now boasted three warehouses near the heart of London and four vessels that kept the arrival of goods from around the world readily available so long as the Thames was not frozen over. The first few years had been a real struggle for Mr. Gardiner and his wife as the margin of error between success and ruin had laid upon a razor’s edge. Unfortunately, Edward Gardiner had not disabused his wife of still living as though his business was still so precarious, a policy that fattened his ledger year after year.
John Sandbach tapped the side of his nose in respect of his client. "I received your note, and I must say, I found the request rather odd. So perhaps you might explain in more detail the changes you wish for me to make to the account for Miss Mary?"
"Miss Bennet," Mr. Gardiner corrected him, and the solicitor's eyes widened. Mr. Gardiner chuckled, "You knew of Elizabeth's marriage, but I'm afraid Jane has also tiptoed down the church aisle without any of us being the wiser. She is now Lady Graham Hamilton in Scotland. However, there has been a request for half for Lydia's portion to be reallocated to the name of this child," Mr. Gardiner handed over a piece of parchment to his solicitor rather than speaking the name aloud, signaling no discussion necessary for the transaction. "And I should like Mary's account to become her own."
Mr. Sandbach read the name on the scrap of parchment, then looked up at Mr. Gardiner, very perplexed. Mr. Gardiner grimaced and shook his head, and the solicitor pursed his lips.
“He is not Robert’s natural child,” Edward offered.
With Lydia's unexpected death of fever last summer, Mr. Sandbach could guess who birthed the child named for the deceased Mr. Bennet. But ever a man of discretion, Mr. Sandbach did not press for details. The request for Miss Bennet's account, however, was more difficult.
"I'm afraid there is a small obstacle to your request. We both kn
ow the particular wording of the last will and testament of your brother and my friend."
"Indeed," Mr. Gardiner said. "While Mary is not of age for the money to become hers in her own right, she has left a letter for my wife and I that she has eloped. So I believe she would qualify under the marriage clause her father instituted."
The second letter that Mr. Gardiner handed his solicitor still did not erase the grim expression on the man's face.
"I'm afraid this is still irregular, and elopement? I imagine there are objections to the match?" Mr. Sandbach knew better than any the additional restrictions placed on the monies transferring to the Bennet daughters. He had written them. They had to be most careful to move the money out from under control of the estate, yet still, use civil law to prevent the young women from abusing the generosity or becoming victims of a fortune hunter.
Mr. Gardiner laughed. "As irregular as it sounds, there is none who object to the match. The good colonel, pardon me, general, as he has been promoted, is due to deploy and I'm afraid the middle Bennet daughter turned out to be a dark horse where it came to pursuing her aims. They had planned a grand occasion here in London during the Season, but it would appear the groom will not be able to attend such an engagement. Afraid his bride has taken matters into her own hands and insisted on the anvil."
John Sandbach joined his client in his laughter, a heartwarming tale of good news both men could appreciate.
"I'm still afraid," Mr. Sandbach said as he brought himself back under good regulation, "until there is proof of their marriage, I cannot overrule the particular restrictions placed on her funds.”
Mr. Gardiner was afraid of this, but he was also no fool. He had another solution in mind. And so he handed over the third letter in his possession to his solicitor, one penned in Richard’s own hand. The bottom was signed and witnessed by both Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Darcy. "Then please add Brigadier General Richard Fitzwilliam to the account so that he and Mary may withdraw the funds freely."
A Spring Society Page 6
