by Ola Wegner
The guests were expected in the late afternoon to early evening, but Elizabeth began to look for them at midday. Eventually, restless and unable to focus on any task, she decided to go for a walk, hoping to find her husband who had left the house in haste shortly after breakfast. Heading in the direction of the stables, she indeed found Darcy in the paddock standing next to a small horse.
“I have not seen him before,” she proclaimed, walking closer.
Darcy straightened up from inspecting the animal’s legs. His whole face brightened at the sight of her, which warmed her heart. Extending his hand, her feet carried her to him without conscious thought.
“Our newest addition,” he offered, wrapping her in his arms and bringing her close. “It came today.”
“You bought a pony?” she asked, confused.
“Georgiana’s old pony died a few years ago. I figured that since we were to have children among our guests, they would enjoy it. Perhaps the twins would like to learn how to ride and it is safer to start with a pony. He is young but already quite well trained, though he does not have a name as yet.”
“How thoughtful of you!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck.
“Easy,” he crooned, holding her to him with one arm, while the other hand held on to the pony’s bridle.
“You are too generous,” she stepped back to look into his face. “I know that the children will be delighted with your gesture.”
“I thought that in a few years our own child may use him as well,” he mentioned casually.
She stilled, her eyes searching his expression as she held her breath. “You are not opposed to the idea then?”
He held her gaze steadily. “I never was.”
“Oh, Fitzwilliam,” she whispered, stepping close to place her head against his chest.
His tightened his grip, whispering in her hair, “A man needs an heir—a son to whom he may pass his legacy . At first, I wanted to wait and have his mother to myself for a little while, but then I realized that a child born of love can only strengthen a marriage. And Lizzy, I—”
The sound of someone behind them loudly clearing his throat made Darcy stop and turn. One of the footmen stood with his face to the ground, looking very awkward. Elizabeth stiffened, attempting to step away from Darcy so as to keep the proper distance between them, but he would have none of it, holding her firm.
“Excuse me, sir, but Mrs. Reynolds asked me to find Mrs. Darcy and tell her that her relatives have just arrived,” the servant said, appearing embarrassed at what he had observed.
“They have arrived and I was not there!” Elizabeth cried.
“Calm down, my dear; they are earlier than expected. Surely they did not expect to find you waiting on the portico.”
“We must go to the house at once,” she cried, her eyes beseeching him.
“Of course.” He called for the stable boy to take the pony back inside and care for him.
Going on ahead, Elizabeth traversed the distance between the stables and the manor house as quickly as possible. Only the fact that she was Mrs. Darcy now and not Lizzy Bennet stopped her from breaking into a full run. Slightly out of breath, she stepped into the main foyer, only to find it empty.
“They are already in the sitting room, Mrs. Darcy,” Mrs. Reynolds said from close by. “Miss Georgiana is with them.”
Smiling, Elizabeth breathed her thanks to the housekeeper just as Darcy entered the house. Extending his arm to her, he asked, “Shall we?”
As they approached the sitting room, she could hear the children’s voices.
“Lizzy!” Jane saw her first.
The next few minutes were filled with laughter and warm greetings even though the children seemed to be unusually subdued, hiding timidly behind their mother’s skirts, or in little Fred’s case, on Jane’s shoulder.
“Robbie.” Mrs. Gardiner whispered something into her oldest son’s ear and pushed him forward. The little boy’s face flushed as he reached inside his navy blue coat to retrieve two small bouquets of pink daisies. Shyly he handed one to Georgiana and the other to Elizabeth
Much to his embarrassment, he was thoroughly kissed and hugged in return by both ladies.
“How was your journey?” Darcy asked in a pleasant, rich voice when the women grew quiet enough for him to speak.
“It was well; thank you for asking,” Mrs. Gardiner answered, smiling kindly. “Even though the twins were poisoned by something they ate on the road yesterday.”
Elizabeth’s eyes sought Emily and Robbie, who indeed looked paler than usual. “Oh, no!”
“I threw up three times,” Emily announced proudly, deciding that it was time for her to take part in the conversation. “And my tummy hurt, but Robbie threw up more than I did.”
“Oh, you poor dear,” Elizabeth said, pulling the girl onto her lap.
“We were afraid to feed them again today, which is the reason why we came so much earlier,” Jane explained.
Mrs. Gardiner nodded. “I do not trust the food at the inns anymore.”
“You must be famished!” Elizabeth cried. “I will have Mrs. Reynolds see to some refreshments this instant.”
“Something light, Lizzy, if it is possible. A plain sandwich would be best,” her aunt added.
As the maid showed the guests the way to their bedrooms, Mrs. Gardiner pulled Elizabeth aside, allowing Jane and Georgiana to assist the children up the stairs.
“I dare say, Lizzy, that your problems in the bedroom must have been solved,” she whispered, eyeing the younger woman with amusement.
Elizabeth blushed, giving a slight nod of her head. “Yes, indeed. How could you have guessed? Is it written on my face?”
Mrs. Gardiner shook her head in amusement. “You look lovely, my dear, and no, it is not written on your expression. Mr. Darcy, however, looks much too relaxed and pleased with himself to suffer from conjugal difficulties. Remember, I have been married for ten years, and I do recognise that look.”
A small smile graced Elizabeth’s lips, “Indeed, Aunt Madeline. The advice in your last letter was sound and most appreciated, and I dare say that he has no reason to repine.”
The older woman threaded her arm through Elizabeth’s, giving it a light squeeze. “I am truly glad for you, my dear.”
Their conversation was interrupted as Anne ran up to them, excited to show her mother her very own guest bedroom.
As Elizabeth watched mother and daughter take the stairs, she realised that she could not wait until that evening. Maybe then she would have more time to talk privately with both Jane and her Aunt Madeline.
Chapter Thirty
“Do you think badly of me, Lizzy?” Jane asked with visible worry etched in her tone and expression.
Elizabeth and Jane, in their nightclothes, were huddled together on the bed in the same guest bedroom which Jane had occupied during her stay at Pemberley. Three days had passed since Jane and the Gardiners’ arrival, but only now had the sisters found time for their much awaited private talk. It was a few minutes past eleven in the evening and Elizabeth felt like a maiden again, whispering with her beloved sister late into the night, sharing secrets and wishes for the future.
Brutus was sprawled at the foot of the bed, pleased with having his floppy ears rubbed from time to time.
“No, Jane, certainly not,” Elizabeth assured quickly. “I am simply concerned for your happiness. I care for you, sister. I want you to find happiness with a man whom you can love. I always thought that Mr. Bingley was that man. And now…well…I cannot make you out.”
Jane let out a long sigh, and fell back on the pile of pillows heaped against the headboard. “I thought that too, Lizzy, but,” she stopped, staring at the canopy above her.
“But...” Elizabeth prompted gently, eager to hear more.
Jane was about to speak, when there was a quiet knock on the door.
“Who can that be?” Elizabeth wondered aloud.
“Perhaps Mr. Darcy is looking for
you,” Jane ventured.
Elizabeth shook her head. “No, he needs to answer several important letters in order to send them out in tomorrow’s post. He is locked in his study.”
The knocking was repeated with more force, and the sound of a muted male voice was heard. “Excuse me the late hour, however, I am looking for Mrs. Darcy.”
Jane giggled, while Elizabeth rolled her eyes.
“Told you,” Jane murmured, still grinning as Elizabeth climbed down from the tall bed and ran across the room to open the door.
“I thought I heard your voice,” Darcy said as she stepped out into the darkened hall, leaving the door ajar behind her.
He held a single, thick candlestick in his hand, which illuminated his face in a ghostlike fashion.
“Have you finished your letters?” she enquired.
He shrugged noncommittally. “I wrote only one. I decided to deal with the rest early in the morning. Are you coming to bed?”
She shook her head vigorously. “There are matters which I wish to discuss with Jane.”
He scowled. “It is late. Can you not do it tomorrow?”
“No, I cannot,” she replied impatiently. “Go to bed.”
His frown deepened, and his bottom lip protruded in a pout more appropriate for five year old Robbie than for a man of eight and twenty.
“Lizzy,” he whined.
She rolled her eyes. “I will return as soon as Jane and I finish our conversation. Do not wait up for me. You must be exhausted.”
He gave her a sad look, which made her even more exasperated with him. “Fitzwilliam, you are acting like a child,” she said sternly. “Now, go!” She motioned with her head towards the other end of the hall where their private rooms were located. Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it and puffed out her cheeks.
“Lizzy, you were so mean to poor Mr. Darcy,” Jane said earnestly, a smile twitching the corners of her mouth.
Elizabeth produced a low, growling sound. “He is so infuriating at times. It is as if he cannot stay away from me for a minute.”
“Would you prefer your husband to be cold and distant, ignoring you like so many others we have known?” Jane asked, completely serious now. She was referring to their parents, but would not say it.
“Of course not! Do not concern yourself with him, Jane. He is overly anxious as it has been three days since we...” she cleared her throat. “I have been tired these last days. Occupied with making preparations for your visit, and then trying to make you feel welcome and comfortable. We have not...well, I am sure you know my meaning.”
Jane’s laughing eyes met hers. “Yes, I believe I do.”
Elizabeth reached for one of the soft, woollen blankets, before climbing back onto bed. “We were talking about Mr. Bingley though,” she reminded her sister as she wrapped the soft material around herself and sat crossed legged.
“I still like him,” Jane confessed. “I truly do. However, Colonel Fitzwilliam...oh, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened as she took in her sister’s dreamy expression. She had never seen her in such a state.
“Jane, you barely know the man.”
“That is why I asked him to keep a correspondence.”
“It was you who suggested that?” Elizabeth exclaimed, greatly surprised.
“Was there another way for me to learn more about him?” Jane questioned rationally. “Especially since he is in Kent and will remain there at least till the end of the year, as I understand it.”
“Jane, you do realise that you are raising his expectations and giving him hope that he cannot afford. If Lady Catherine hears a word about it, she will leave Rosings Park to the Church of England rather than to him. She hates me and will hate you because you are my sister. Colonel Fitzwilliam can ill afford to marry you.” She spoke the last words slowly and evenly, looking her sister in the eye.
Jane lowered her gaze, her long eyelashes sweeping across her creamy cheeks. “Not now, but in the future...” her voice trailed off. “He is not that poor, Lizzy. He told me that he is well compensated while in the army.”
“Did he promise you something? Are you engaged?” she pressed.
“No. He said that he was not in a position to ask me—not now, not yet.”
Elizabeth reached for her sister’s hand. “Jane, it may take years before he inherits his aunt’s estate and even then... Are you willing to wait? You know him so little.”
Jane’s earnest gaze met hers. “You always spoke very highly of Colonel Fitzwilliam,” she reminded. “I still have the letters you wrote to me from Hunsford, praising his goodness, kindness, and easy manners. I even once thought him a favourite of yours. Now you speak as if he purposely wants to hurt me.”
Elizabeth let go of Jane’s hand slowly, flushing furiously. “My opinion of Colonel Fitzwilliam has not changed in the least. All I want is for you to be careful. I do not wish anyone to toy with your feelings. And Colonel Fitzwilliam was never a favourite—only a friend.”
“That is well and good, Lizzy, but it was Mr. Bingley who toyed with me, not Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
“Jane...” Elizabeth began, only to pause. “Sister,” she said at last, touching Jane’s arm. “Have you fallen in love Colonel Fitzwilliam? Is he more than a friend to you?”
Now it was Jane’s turn to blush. “Oh, Lizzy...”she sighed, pressing her hands to her chest. “He is so different from any of the men I have ever known. He has travelled to France, Spain, the West Indies and even America. He had so many adventures and he is blessed with the ability talk about it in such a captivating manner, as though I was there with him. I think that he should write his memoirs, cataloguing all his adventures, and have them published.”
Elizabeth frowned, wondering whether they spoke of the same man. She had had a few lengthily conversations with the colonel while in Kent, but he had never said a word about his professional life or of his travels.
“I did not know that he was stationed in France,” Lizzy murmured. Even Darcy never mentioned the fact.
“Many times, but he was not in a battle,” Jane explained. “He dealt with different matters. I cannot tell you exactly what it entailed, as I swore to keep the secret. Do you know that he speaks fluent French? Frenchmen would never guess him to be English.”
“Are you telling me that he was a spy?”
“Shush.” Jane whispered nervously, putting a finger to her lips. “I have said too much already.”
Elizabeth stared blankly at her sister for a long minute. “And you believe him?”
“He would not lie to me,” Jane proclaimed, her jaw line tensing.
“I do not know what to think about it. I will worry even more about you,” Elizabeth said after another moment of silence.
“Sister, please do not,” Jane pleaded, her expression softening. “I know what I am about. We are only exchanging letters. There is nothing more.”
Elizabeth crossed her arms against her chest. “What about Mr. Bingley? Fitzwilliam received a letter from him today. We are expecting him at any time and he is coming to see you, Jane.”
Jane looked to the side but offered no answer.
“He loves you,” Elizabeth continued. “Yes, he made a mistake in abandoning you after the Netherfield ball but it was not entirely his fault. It was his sisters and my dear husband who talked him into believing you were indifferent. I assure you Fitzwilliam has atoned for his ill advice to his friend tenfold and Mr. Bingley is contrite over the past events. I am certain that he wishes to make amends for his mistakes, if only you will let him.”
“You want me feel guilty,” Jane complained. “I like Mr. Bingley and I like his company, but he does not...”
Elizabeth leaned closer. “Does not what?”
An intense blush covered Jane’s creamy complexion. “I do not have naughty thoughts about him.”
“Jane, what has happened to you?!” Elizabeth exclaimed, finding it almost impossible to believe this was her beloved sister. “
You have never spoken in such a way!”
“Mr. Bingley has never once tried to kiss me,” Jane offered. “He had numerous opportunities while he visited me at uncle’s house in London and yet did nothing.”
“Still, you must allow him some consideration. Mr. Bingley is a perfect gentleman. He is coming to see you and has followed you around England just to be in your company.”
Jane shrugged her pretty, rounded shoulders, now uncovered by her light, summer nightgown. “He never once tried to take my hand or speak words of affection as men in love are prone to do.”
“He respects you,” Elizabeth continued in defence of Bingley. “He may be shy with women but let me advise you that such an attitude has its advantages. You will most likely never have to deal with legions of past lovers. While with Colonel Fitzwilliam... well...while I have no proof, I know that he and my husband were thick as thieves in more ways than one.”
“Perhaps,” Jane agreed quietly as her slim fingers began twisting the ribbon at the end of her long braid.
“He kissed you, did he not?” Elizabeth asked on a sigh, her voice resigned. “Colonel Fitzwilliam kissed you. Yes, he did!”
A blissful smile graced Jane’s face, a new blush blooming on her cheeks. “I forgot about the whole world for that short moment in his arms. You cannot imagine...”
“Oh, I can imagine, Jane.” Elizabeth interrupted dryly. “I truly can. It seems that some skills run in this family. I only wonder at him finding the opportunity to do such a thing.”
The pink returned to Jane’s face with double intensity. “Do you remember the night of the dinner—the one before your wedding?”
Elizabeth nodded slowly. “I did not notice the two of you disappearing.”
“You had other matters on your mind back then. It is only natural that you did not notice.”
