Chapters 34-36 The Whisky Wedding

THE DARCYS MANAGED fifty miles of good road before stopping for the night. Elizabeth refreshed herself in the room while Mr. Darcy went below stairs to send another express to London to contradict the previous letter of their delay.

“Did you travel comfortably in the second carriage?” Elizabeth asked earnestly of her maid, genuinely caring about the woman’s well being. While they could not be friends, they shared a bond thanks to her injury that required so much of the young woman’s discretion and abilities. 

“Yes, ma’am. And you did not have to send those treats back to us at the first stop. They were meant for you and the master.”

“Tosh, we could not possibly have eaten so many delicacies. If I had, my mid-section would swell to such a width poor Mr. Darcy would have a whale for a wife!” Elizabeth teased as Fiona brought her warm water to wash the dust of the road from her body.

“I don’t think the master would worry about your mid-section growing, Mrs. Darcy.” Fiona closed her eyes as silence fell over the room, until her lady began a hearty laugh that nearly brought her to tears. Fiona began to laugh as well.

“How silly of me! But it is much too early to think of such things, surely one evening, it is not possible.” Mrs. Darcy shook her head and accepted Fiona’s help to change her attire.

“I do not believe that is how that works, ma’am.”

The two women made mock faces at one another and then shared another laugh. Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief at such a hopeful thought, that there was a chance, albeit a very small chance, she could already carry Mr. Darcy’s child. The good cheer became the balm she needed after a tedious afternoon on the road and staving off panic at every turn of the carriage.

As clean as she could be without a full bath, Elizabeth dismissed Fiona for the evening and told her to rest and eat well. The maid smiled at the dismissal, but had a small request of her employer.

“Mrs. Darcy, forgive me for asking. I really should not, but Mr. Stewart, he suggested, you see.”

“Yes? What is it?”

“There is a book of poems in your trunk, madam, and I was wondering if I might read it? Again, I should not have asked, but Mr. Stewart suggested I did because Mr. Darcy allows him to read his books.” Fiona held her breath once she finished her repetitive question, out of nervousness. She did not add that Mr. Stewart told her she should read more to be a proper ladies’ maid, she needed to be able to hold conversation with her lady.

Elizabeth admired the young woman from Scotland who offered her nothing but pure loyalty. Mrs. Aldridge had shared with her the troubles poor Fiona faced below stairs and her heart ached that the woman was so nervous before her now. Elizabeth reached out and grabbed Fiona’s hand, causing the young woman to finally breathe once more and look up.

“At Longbourn, I shared a maid with my four sisters. Betsy enjoyed the comforts of my father’s library anytime after her duties were satisfied, though with five women to help, I believe she rarely found the time. However, please, feel free to ask to read any book I might have on my person, and short of me wishing to read it myself at the moment, it is yours!” Elizabeth smiled and hoped Fiona would return the gesture. A knock on the door interrupted  the two women as Mr. Darcy once more entered the room.

Fiona made a quick bow and thanked Mrs. Darcy before leaving. She scurried past Mr. Darcy with her head down and and arms full of soiled clothing.

“Did I return too quickly? I know you said you wished for a small amount of privacy . . .” Mr. Darcy tried to decipher the odd feeling in the room.

“No, no, husband. But I believe I would like a word with your valet in the morning if you do not mind, or would you like to speak to him for me?”

Darcy removed one of his boots and accepted Elizabeth’s help with the second. 

“Has he done something to offend you?”

“Me? No.” Elizabeth took Darcy’s coat and laid it upon the chair for the man they were speaking about. When she turned around, Fitzwilliam sat on the edge of the bed and looked at his wife expectantly.

“I believe he may have spoken out of turn to my maid and I would just like for him to know, that in the future if he has concerns about her fulfilling her duties, that he come to me. I should be the judge if she needs instruction.”

Darcy mulled his wife’s words and found them to be fair. “I will relay to him that message.” 

Another knock signaled that the dinner Mr. Darcy had ordered arrived and the staff of the Kendal Inn set up a hasty dining table for two in the middle of the room. Elizabeth inhaled and smiled at her husband that he was so thoughtful as to allow them to avoid the common rooms.

“Will we spend any nights at Pemberley?” Elizabeth asked as they took their places at the small table.

“We will pass the road to turn off for Pemberley around midday on our third day. It is out of the way, however, I did make arrangements for us to stay in Meryton, unless you wish to send an express to your father and stay at Longbourn?”

Elizabeth wanted to ask if  Longbourn was also out of the way as was Meryton? When she and her aunt left they had to drive far to the west to catch the main road up to Gretna Green. But as Elizabeth chewed her food thoughtfully, more pressing visions of her mother’s shrill voice shouting an embarrassing declaration of Mr. Darcy’s wealth distracted her from the geographical inquiry. And that shouting was the best outcome. The worst would be Mrs. Bennet insulted Mr. Darcy and found no delight in their marriage from preoccupation with Lydia’s flight.

“What if Lydia and Mr. Wickham do not marry? What if she has not been found?” Elizabeth could not help herself from worrying more about Lydia as their travel placed them upon the path to revealing the status of her youngest sister. Elizabeth privately chided herself that worrying so much about her own needs and her own wants that she had shoved the loss of her youngest sister utterly aside since yesterday afternoon.

Mr. Darcy allowed Elizabeth to continue asking questions where he could give no answer as he held just as much information about the situation as his wife. He gently reminded her that he had not received any correspondence from his cousin Richard and he was certain that the lack of news was just as good as any for the time being.

“Besides, they anticipated us arriving yesterday and may have not sent any information for fear we might pass the letter going to Broadmeadow as we travel to London.” Mr. Darcy hoped his logical explanation would help distract his wife, but he underestimated the daughter of Francine Bennet.

“But what if there is a child? What will happen to Lydia?” Elizabeth was near tears as personal regret washed over her and she felt a culpability for the years in which she laughed at Lydia’s antics, but did not provide her with the guidance and chastisement an older sister held privilege to give.

Darcy sighed. Shifting his weight uncomfortably in a chair that was not his own, he remembered a similar conversation with his cousin Richard when they rescued his sister from the clutches of Wickham. Although Georgiana never fully eloped with George, there was question for many months if she was with child as he did not trust Wickham to keep his self-control under good regulation.

Very somberly, Darcy reached across the table to grasp his wife’s hand to reassure her. “If there is a child she would not be the first young woman to bear such a consequence for her foolish actions. But, my lands have many tenant families that would gladly take in a child that was in need. And, as my wife, you would be able to oversee, from a distance, the upbringing and support of our niece or nephew. This has been done for many generations, though it is always unfortunate.”

“I cannot tell you how much I am grateful for your willingness to rescue my family’s good name. But I confess ignorance to the raising of bastards.” Elizabeth grimaced at the coarse word coming out of her mouth, but there was no other word for it. If her sister was with child, it was George Wickham’s bastard. “Would it truly be so easy for us to provide support and encouragement for such a child?”

Darcy shrugged. “Perhaps we will be more selective in choosing the child’s education. I always thought it was a mistake that my father sent George to school with me.” Darcy said nothing more as Elizabeth’s mouth opened in horror at the revelation her husband just gave. George Wickham, a bastard himself? How ironic they would discuss supporting his progeny in a similar manner in which he himself grew up.

“But who are his parents?” Elizabeth found herself overcome with curiosity as to the origin of George Wickham. But again, her husband shrugged.

“I never asked and it was not for me to know. But I heard my mother and father argue about it more than a few times in my youth. And then my mother became ill and nothing else mattered. As far as George Wickham knows, his mother and father are Mr. and Mrs. Franklin Wickham, the longtime steward at Pemberley who died three years ago.”

“And Mrs. Wickham?” Elizabeth suddenly felt an undeserved charity towards George Wickham, the man of lies and swindle.

Darcy shook his head. “She had died the previous winter. Mr. Wickham is not only friendless, but he holds no family ties either.”

Elizabeth looked down at her plate and found reason to poke and prod the various food items in front of her. Eating the Broadmeadow cook’s delicacies in the packed basket had more than given her fill and she did not feel hungry. 

“I suppose his lack of family is a blessing that we will have none to inform when he is put to death,” Elizabeth said.

Darcy dropped his silverware at how casually his wife mentioned such a fate for Wickham.

Elizabeth shrugged in an imitation of her husband’s earlier calmness and explained. “It is the only logical conclusion, the man deserted the militia. Your cousin searches for him. I cannot believe the militia is not more interested in apprehending such a man.”

Darcy lifted his glass of wine and prepared himself for what he had to say. The silence between them suited Elizabeth just fine as she had much to reflect upon and with her own words realized by this point there was no hope of seeing Lydia and Mr. Wickham married, not that she wished such a criminal upon her sister.

“Your suspicion for the man I’ve known since childhood matches my own. But I will remind you, dearest, we hold no information as to the status of your sister or Mr. Wickham and I believe the subject rather distressing. We still have a very long way to travel and I would not for the world ask you to take on additional burdens than what you already carry.”

Elizabeth bristled at the very polite, yet very firm, declaration she was not to speak about her sister or Mr. Wickham further. She agreed on the surface with her husband; the subject distressed and there was no productivity to further guessing what the future held for any of them. But it still stung to be told what to do.

The remainder of the conversation during the meal remained stilted. Darcy began to suspect he had offended his wife, though for his part, he had taken great care to be as considerate as possible for her feelings.

“I should like to go back to the easiness we had in the carriage here, Elizabeth. Would you like for me to send a servant to retrieve our book?”

Elizabeth yawned and gently shook her head. She finally had eaten most of her dinner and found a full belly coupled with the afternoon of travel brought on a healthy amount of fatigue.

“I believe I should like to ready for bed. We leave at dawn?”

Mr. Darcy smiled in spite of himself to once again be reminded that he had married a woman so very similar to his own habits. Other ladies found great pleasure in holding up the plans of others to travel, some like his mother genuinely needed the extra consideration. Others, like certain sisters of his friends, seemed to enjoy forcing a delay as a sport. 

“Indeed. Which reminds me, you never stated if you wish to call on Longbourn when we stop in Meryton.”

Elizabeth shook her head and pulled pins from the back of her hair. Long tresses of her dark curls cascaded down her back. 

“This is ungenerous of me to say. But I am afraid if we stop at Longbourn, we shall never make it to London. Perhaps we should skip Meryton as well,” Elizabeth envisioned her Aunt Philips recognizing them and shouting across the street. “I know it is much to ask but maybe we could stay in Wycombe?”

Mr. Darcy walked decidedly closer to his wife, standing just behind her as if mesmerized by the releasing of her hair. Wafts of orange peel and cinnamon from the soap used at Broadmeadow brought to him the strong memory of their first night together while more and more curls found release from their captors. Reaching up to help his wife finish her task, Mr. Darcy placed a gentle kiss just under her right ear.

“My sentiments exactly, madam.”