A Season Lost

by Sophie Turner

  Jane’s countenance turned guilty, so that Elizabeth understood her argument had some effect. When Jane finally spoke, however, it was to say, “It is not just that. If I reconcile with Charles, I will have to – to be intimate with him, again. It is not the intimacy I mind, but the result of it. Perhaps I would be safe while Amelia nurses – that seems to have worked for you – but I would have to bear another child, eventually. Charles still has no heir.”

  “Have you spoken to him of this at all?”

  “No. I find it more difficult to talk to him about all of this, than you. You are a woman, and you have given birth yourself – you understand better.”

  “Has Charles not listened, when you have spoken to him about what happened?”

  “I haven’t – I haven’t been able to tell him as much as I did you.”

  “Jane, I know it is not easy to speak of it, even to me, but I think you should tell him everything – particularly your fears for the future. I could not bear to see you in a marriage where love has been lost.”

  “I do still love him, Lizzy, it’s just – I feel fear much more than love, right now.”

  Elizabeth clasped her sister’s hand. “I know you’re afraid, Jane, but how can you ever feel love, if you keep pushing away the man who loves you?”

  Jane nodded, and said, “I shall go and find him, after I have settled a little bit. I am not ready to go out to Clareborne with him, but I shall find him and talk.”

  +++

  Elizabeth did not see the conversation take place, but she saw the evidence that it had the next morning. She was seated in the winter breakfast-parlour, which they had returned to using much earlier than was usual, in this season, when Charles entered. His countenance held something much closer to his old cheer, and he asked her if he could have loan of Pemberley’s landau. Jane had agreed to the drive out to Clareborne on this day, but Charles thought it too risky to take his curricle and have no cover, should rain strike.

  Elizabeth readily agreed to this, and was glad to see both Bingleys approaching their drive with what seemed hope, when she saw them off. Following this, she went to the nursery, but found little change within that room: the elder George and Bess both tottered about, James crawled with his current dexterity, the younger George persisted in wabbling along on his bottom, and little Amelia slept soundly. Elizabeth was glad Darcy and Anne were due to return the next day, for she had become increasingly desirous of discussing George’s slow development with him, and to learn from him what Dr. Whittling said of Jane’s affliction.

  Thinking of these things brought heaviness to her heart – it seemed to Elizabeth that far more was wrong in this year than was right, and in moments like this she found she had lost her grasp on her usual optimism. She reminded herself of the improvement shown in matters between the Bingleys, but this was not enough to counterbalance the thought of having to send poor little George away, and this was what still pressed on her mind when Mr. Parker found her in the library and informed her the Bingleys had returned.

  However, she found in the entrance-hall something to cheer her: an elder sister seemingly reanimated, looking happier than she had been since before Amelia’s birth, crying out, “Oh, Lizzy, you will not believe it! It is the most wonderful thing!”

  Heartened by whatever had caused such a change in her sister, Elizabeth encouraged them to go to the saloon with her and tell her just what this wonderful thing was. It was Charles who explained it, every bit as happy as his wife, although Elizabeth presumed much of his happiness had been caused by the transformation in Jane:

  “The people we have allowed to stay in the house – they have not been idle,” Charles said. “There was a man among them, a most excellent man, Davies, who had been a butler until the death of his master forced him into the streets, and he organised them all and got them to work on the house. He said they should show their gratitude and work in exchange for the shelter they had been given, and my have they worked! Many of the leaks have been repaired, and they wish to do more, if I will afford them the funds for supplies.”

  “That is remarkable,” Elizabeth said, in shock. She had agreed with Darcy that the Bingleys’s altruism was likely to result in their being taken advantage of, and now, thanks to the leadership of this former butler, it seemed instead the opposite had occurred.

  “I told him I would give him the funds for supplies and have hired him formally as the butler for Clareborne. I’ve promised wages for those who are working, as well,” Charles said. “I believe in a fortnight – a month at most – they will have the house in a place where we may take up residence there. If I had thought that hiring so many labourers to work on the old house would affect such an improvement, I would have done so long ago.”

  This, Elizabeth had not expected, although she now realised it should be the logical conclusion to all she had heard before. Shocked and concerned, she could only watch her sister carefully as she asked, “Will you halt construction on the new house?”

  “Not at all, but with the weather as it is, it may be a very long time before it is completed, and at least this will give us our own home to live in,” Charles said, then added hastily, “Not, of course, that your hospitality has not been exceptional, or that we have not enjoyed staying at Pemberley, but Jane and I would like to begin making a home of our own at Clareborne, even if it is not to be permanent.”

  Elizabeth glanced at Jane, who was smiling and nodding, but still, the idea of her sister’s moving away at such a time – one conversation could not have completely healed the breach between the Bingleys – was an exceedingly worrying one. When Charles left them to go attend to his correspondence – he had a great deal to attend to, now that he was anticipating an imminent move of his household – Elizabeth dismissed her footman, turned to her sister and asked, “Jane, is this truly what you want, to move into that house? I know Charles is very enthusiastic about it, but do you think it will be best for you, at – at such a time? When you have only just – reconciled?”

  Jane smiled, looking serene as she spoke. “It is what I want, Lizzy. I had not seen it, but you were more right than I had realised, that I could never replace fear with love if I kept pushing Charles away. We had such a good conversation yesterday, and again today during the drive. And I realised something else, which I think you have been trying to help me with as well – I need more to occupy my mind, to keep me from dwelling upon those memories. The prospect of having my own household to run again, of having the occupation I used to have at Netherfield – I anticipate it most happily.”

  “Are you – are you sure you are ready to undertake such a change, at such a time?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I am. I believe the change will do me good. Even just – even just being away from the place where it happened, I think will be helpful.”

  This statement wounded Elizabeth – it could not but do so, to think that her home was the source of bad memories for Jane, and she said, “Oh, Jane, we should have moved you to another bedchamber. I did not even think about it.”

  “Please do not worry yourself, Lizzy. I did not think about it myself, until I saw the prospect of moving into my own bedchamber at Clareborne. If I would have asked you, I am sure you would have accommodated me.”

  “Of course,” Elizabeth said, moving to sit beside her sister on the sofa, so she could embrace Jane. “I am going to miss you, but if you think it will do you good, I am glad of it.”

  “I am going to miss you, too, Lizzy, but I do hope we shall still see each other frequently,” said Jane. “And I wonder if – I wonder if I would be asking too much if I requested you came to stay with us, for a few days. I know you have the twins, so if it would be too difficult you should of course say no, but I think it would help me to have you with me while we settle into the house.”

  “Of course I shall come with you,” Elizabeth said. It would be difficult to leave the boys for a few days – she was not inclined to disrupt their lives in order to take them with her for
such a short time – but in truth she did not think she would rest easy herself until she saw that Jane was content at Clareborne.

  That she now intended to leave Pemberley for a few days, once the house at Clareborne was ready, was now added to the list of things Elizabeth wished to discuss with Darcy, and she was exceedingly glad when she glimpsed his carriage coming up the drive the next day. She rushed outside and there recalled the steady drizzle that had been falling all morning, and was glad to find Mr. Parker had followed her out with an umbrella.

  The carriage approached, flanked by its outriders, and Elizabeth noticed one of them was leading a very fine-looking chestnut mare. Outriders, mare, and carriage all came to a halt before Pemberley’s entrance, and after Darcy had emerged and helped his cousin down the chaise’s stairs and beneath the waiting umbrella of one of the footmen, he motioned to the outrider – it was the groom, Alfred – to bring the horse forward. Taking the lead line himself, he walked the mare up to his wife, so that Elizabeth, who had begun to feel a slight suspicion as to the horse’s purpose as soon as she had seen the creature coming up the drive, had those suspicions confirmed well before Darcy said:

  “This is Flora. Edward and I went to Tattersalls last Monday and I thought her perfect for you, although it is of course up to you as to when you wish to begin riding her. I could not pass on such a sweet-tempered mare.”

  By his countenance, Elizabeth believed him to be far more excited about giving such a present than she was to be receiving it – she held little trust for most horses, and now here was a new one she would have to endeavour to learn and trust. Still, she smiled to him and approached the mare, reaching out her hand to stroke the creature’s slightly damp copper coat.

  “She is beautiful – thank you, my love,” Elizabeth said, then found herself being gently nuzzled by Flora, and warming to the horse. Darcy had been very right to describe her as having a sweet temper. Elizabeth continued to pet the mare as Darcy explained that he had sent Alfred north with the horse following the purchase, and Darcy had been in the hopes that he would catch them before his last stage so that all could arrive together, and he could give his gift.

  Alfred was instructed to take the mare to the stables and have her rubbed down and fed a hot mash – Elizabeth sympathised more with the poor creature, as she thought of how the mare had been required to journey the entire distance from London in such weather. Then she smiled to herself, realising she had warmed to Flora more than she had thought, for every other horse in the drive had also been required to work in this weather and she had no such concerns for them. She listened a bit more enthusiastically as Darcy continued to speak of the mare while they walked inside, telling Elizabeth of the lightness of her mouth and the smoothness of her gait; Elizabeth would find her an improvement over Spartan.

  She walked with him up to their apartment, kissed him very thoroughly and thanked him again for her gift, then waited with some impatience in their sitting-room while Mason changed him from his travelling clothes. He emerged from his dressing-room, and Elizabeth thought unhappily of how much she had missed him, and her intent to cause them to be separated again. It was this she told him of first, when he had sat beside her on the sofa, drawn her close, and murmured of how much he had missed her. He was as shocked by the transformation that had apparently taken place at Clareborne as she was; he had been even more certain than she that opening the house as a shelter had been a mistake, and although he was heartened by it, he hoped it would not prompt the Bingleys to commit other such acts in the future. They could not all end so well, he said, not when there were a goodly number of men in the world who would look to take advantage of such altruism. His countenance darkened a bit as he said it, and Elizabeth thought he referred particularly to George Wickham.

  “Do you wish me to go with you, to Clareborne?” he asked.

  “Were it just the two of us to consider, that would be my preference, but it is only for a few days. I know you will wish to be here for the harvest, and one of us ought to remain here with the twins.”

  “Are you sure you shall be able to bear the absence from them?”

  “I hope so – I believe I can bear anything for a few days, and I wish to be there for Jane.”

  “Of course,” he said. “I did call on Dr. Whittling, and he said there are shakes and then there are convulsions, and what is to be done depends on which they are.”

  “That is much of what Kelly said – she called them good shakes and bad shakes.”

  “If it was convulsions, what Dr. Alderman did was the right course, and likely saved her life.”

  “I suppose we shall never know.”

  “No, I suppose not. He did say some women struggle, after a difficult birth, that they are – haunted by it, is how he described it. I know it may not be much consolation, to know Jane’s reaction is not uncommon, but I thought you would wish to know.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Elizabeth said. “Darcy, perhaps I do not need to ask you this – I think you would be more capable, in that sort of crisis – but if it ever comes to pass that such an intervention is needed when I give birth, will you let it be my choice?”

  “If you think I should be any more calm than any other man when the life of the woman I love is at risk, you think me far more capable than I truly am,” he said. “I have only the advantage that we have all learned from what happened to Jane, and I promise you that I will let it be your choice.”

  “Thank you, my love.”

  He took up her hand and kissed her knuckles. “What else have I missed here, during my absence? How are the boys?”

  “Darcy, I am so worried about George.” Their prior conversation had already made her emotional, and she nearly choked on a sob as she said this.

  “Is he ill? Is something else the matter with him?”

  “I – I do not know, but I fear there is. James has been crawling for more than a month, but George seems to have no interest in it. I know I should not compare them – they are not identical – but I have been wondering, if there is something the matter with George, physically, what would you wish to do with him when he grows older? Would you wish to send him away?”

  “Oh, Elizabeth.” He touched her cheek. “If you were so concerned over this, I wish you had written to me of it. I cannot claim to know whether we should consider him behind if he is not yet crawling, but I do not think it should be cause for concern, yet.”

  “But if there is – if there is something wrong with him – ”

  “Then we will decide, together, what we think is best for him,” he said, firmly, embracing her.

  Elizabeth had been reassured, both by his words and by his touch, but still found herself weeping. “He is not a spare to me,” she whispered.

  “Shh, I know. He is not a spare to me either, my love.”

  +++

  Anne was glad no one had questioned her desire to return to Pemberley. To Fitzwilliam Darcy, she had said only that she wished to give her mother time to vacate Rosings; he had accepted this reasoning, and Anne presumed it had been passed along to Elizabeth. Anne did wish to ensure her mother had vacated Rosings before going there as mistress, but what she had not shared with anyone was that she had begun to think it would be easier to return there as a married woman, with an husband who would help her take control of the house and estate.

  It had been Edward who had first put her on this line of thought, encouraging her to vex her mother by marrying for love. If Edward had known the end result of his encouragement, he might not have given it, but in the time she had been in London, Anne had been unable to forget Mr. Smith. Distance had not removed him from her mind – instead, it seemed to have done the opposite. She had missed his company, far more than she would have expected, and when she had allowed herself to consider the merits in marrying him – he was kind, he was handsome, and he would know better than most men what was needed to be done to right the Rosings estate – she had decided they outweighed the disadvantages. She had no int
ention of joining the London ton at her age; what she wanted was a happy life, a life she was in control of, at Rosings.

  Mr. Smith could give her that life, and yes, he would vex her mother greatly. Anne was thinking rationally, however; this vexation was not her primary motivation, but rather an additional benefit that such a marriage would prompt. No, her primary motivation was love, and that was why she had wished to return to Pemberley. Anne shared this with no one, however. It was, at present, a secret for her alone, for her hopes of marrying Mr. Smith were contingent upon a few very critical matters: he would have to return her affections, and ask for her hand.

  Chapter 10

  Marguerite and Edward, having commitments in town which prevented the whole family’s travelling together, arrived a se’nnight after Darcy and Anne, and Elizabeth found their presence very strange at first. Given how easily Jane’s first birth had gone, she had expected them to be arriving with her sister churched and happily recovering from childbirth, so that Pemberley would have held three couples well ensconced in marital harmony. Instead, the Bingleys were making tenuous steps to regain that harmony, and contrasted wildly with the Fitzwilliams, who struggled to keep from staring into each other’s eyes whenever they were in the same room together.

  Still, once Elizabeth had gotten used to having a happier couple within the house, she found them lifting her own spirits, and believed she saw them doing the same for Jane and Darcy. It was not as though they had undergone no hardship in their own lives – one needed only look at Edward to be reminded that he had lost his arm in battle, and while Marguerite bore no physical signs of having lived in France in difficult conditions during much of the war and its aftermath, she needed only speak for her accent to provide that reminder. Happiness could follow the deepest strife, and the Fitzwilliams were evidence of it.

  Charles seemed to be treating his wife with caution, building carefully upon the foundation that had begun that day they had visited Clareborne, but building nonetheless. There were no more repetitions of the idea that Amelia’s birth must be put behind them, and instead a great solicitousness towards Jane, when he was at Pemberley. He was often at Clareborne, however, seeing to everything needed to prepare the house for his family’s arrival, and while Charles was not the sort of man to be calculating about repairing his relationship with his wife, Elizabeth thought his absence made Jane approach him with more fondness when he was home.