What is the Duke up to? I am so very excited to keep writing this juicy tale of theft by lies and not all of the players will survive their plots. 🙂
XOXOXO Elizabeth Ann West
Chapter 22 - The Trappings of Marriage, a Pride and Prejudice Variation
The prophecy of Catherine Bennet came true as an exhausted and pale Jane Bingley presented Charles Bingley with an introduction to his children. Despite her exhaustion, both babes had been laid swaddled in each arm of the young mother as Mr. Bingley was finally allowed back into his wife’s room after the bloodied sheets had long been cleared. Mr. Jones had arrived, late as usual, but already examined both babes and the mother, and found all to be satisfactorily recovering. Mrs. Bennet declared such a result beyond obvious, and she worked to repair the damage she had done with her older sister in the moment of Jane’s distress.
For his part, Charles Bingley stood awestruck at the beautiful vision of his angel with two other angels beside her. He gawked a moment, wishing to impress in his mind that image forevermore. He continually rubbed his chin until finally Jane noticed her husband standing there and offered him a weak smile.
“Your children are anxious to meet you, Charles.”
Jane’s voice acted as a siren’s call and snapped Mr. Bingley out of his stupor. He rushed to the bed and quickly sat down, but then panicked that his sudden movements might hurt Janie, but she shook her head. Without ceremony, she lifted her left arm up and deposited one of the children in Mr. Bingley’s arms as he stammered and protested such a sudden use of his role as father.
“I shall drop it!”
“No, you will not. She is too light to drop.” Jane used her now-free arm to more securely hold the second babe that remained with her.
“She?” Mr. Bingley asked, his eyes suddenly glistening over with tears as he looked down at his daughter’s face. “She is so beautiful.”
The babe, as if understanding her father’s voice, yawned and suddenly blinked open her beautiful brown eyes. Mr. Bingley gasped and then smiled and looked up at Jane. He cocked his head in the direction of the second child. “And her?”
Jane shook her head.
“This is your son. I thought we should name him Charles.”
Mr. Bingley looked at Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Philips standing at the foot of the bed, watching the young family learn of each other. Mr. Bingley gulped and agreed.
“Our little chap will be a Charlie!” he decreed to the room’s hearty congratulations and agreement as to the way to differentiate between the son and the father.
After the many congratulations on having a son, Mr. Bingley frowned as a reminder of another child who deserved such cheer lay comfortably in his arms.
“And what about our little Miss? What shall we name you?” Mr. Bingley looked down at his daughter as if expecting a reply, but it was Jane who spoke out.
“Her name is to be Lynn.” Jane looked fiercely at her Aunt Phillips, who had provided her weeks upon weeks of support. She was the only one in the family to understand how difficult it was to carry two children into the world, though none of Aunt Phillips’ twins survived the birthing process. The Phillipses had suffered the stillborn deaths of two sets and another child before they had given up on having children of their own.
Lynn Phillips began to cry, and clasped her handkerchief to her chest as her sister Fanny embraced her. Mr. Bingley, sensing his wife’s whispered request, took a deep breath and carefully stood with his daughter in his arms. As if learning to walk for the first time, the man took his steps ever so slowly and presented his daughter to her namesake.
This action allowed Mrs. Bennet to release her sister, and Lynn Phillips accepted the babe and pulled her close to kiss her forehead. Young Lynn, for her part, let out a little cry at being moved around again, but soon settled and cooed when her great-aunt began speaking to her.
“You shall have a bright future, little Lynn Bingley. And I shall make sure that you have the most beautiful ribbons and bonnets ever to be made.”
Mr. Bingley chuckled at Aunt Phillips as she continued to coo over her great-niece, and Mrs. Bennet walked forward to reach her arms out to hold her first grandson. Jane handed the baby to her mother, as Mr. Bingley walked around the two women of the older generation fussing over the babies, and comforted his wife.
Jane Bingley leaned her head against her husband’s shoulder as he sat next to her in the bed, and she sighed. Charles reached down and grasped his wife’s hand, holding it with great care before bringing it up to his lips to press a kiss to the back of it. He tilted his head towards his wife before he spoke.
“You are a remarkable woman, Jane Bingley. Our children are ever so lucky to have you as a mother.”
Jane weakly squeezed his hand and then announced that she must feed the children, to her mother’s objections.
“Mr. Bingley, you cannot let poor Jane weaken herself further. You must call for a wet nurse!”
“Mama, it is already settled. Aunt Phillips helped me find a young girl in the village and she is already here to help as wet nurse. But I intend to nurse both of my children myself for as long as I am able.” Obediently, Mrs. Phillips began to walk forward to bring Lynn to her mother, when Mrs. Bennet began to fuss once more.
“Surely, the boy must be fed first!”
“Fanny, he will not starve. Lynn was born first by nearly an hour. Feed them in the order in which they were birthed.”
“But the boy!” Mrs. Bennet continued to argue until Mr. Bingley kissed his wife’s temple, and then rose from the bed to address his mother-in-law directly.
“Mrs. Bennet, may I have the pleasure of holding my son for the first time?” Mrs. Bennet could hardly argue with this, and begrudgingly handed the child to his father.
Charles Bingley looked at his son as Aunt Phillips assisted Jane in sitting up to feed their daughter, but young Charlie merely slept.
“You can sit with me, can’t you, lad, while your mum tends to your sister?” Finding a chair on the far side of the room, Charles Bingley walked with his son as he asked Mrs. Bennet for a small favor.
“I wonder if you might help Kitty with the announcements? And I shall stay here and make sure both children are well taken care of.” Mr. Bingley laughed, as Mrs. Bennet could never say no to him, and the flustered woman did manage to require her sister to go with her.
Charles held the slumbering Charlie in his arms and looked up at Janie to see her smiling at them. He returned the smile, similar to the same smiles they exchanged once upon an assembly night. But this time the smiles exchanged were full of so much love and admiration than either thought possible to feel.
Together, they had doubled the size of their family and relished the joy such work brought. Charles whispered a small prayer as he looked back down at his Charlie that the Good Lord continue to look after and provide for his family. He may not be a man with all the riches in the kingdom, but as a new father he felt wealthier than ever before.
Chapter 23 - The Trappings of Marriage, a Pride and Prejudice Variation
“I cannot pretend to approve of her as my successor,” the Countess of Matlock sourly issued her opinion as her husband entered her suite of rooms at Alnwick Castle. Although the marriage ceremony took place that morning, the earl still felt compelled to shush his wife and her harsh words.
“Whatever on earth are you afraid of, Henry? The deed is done, and while you may have had an entire lifetime to get to know your heir, I find a shocking lack of substance in the new Lady Brahmington.” Margaret Fitzwilliam lifted the silver hairbrush from the vanity and pulled it tersely through her locks. Her personal maid had been dismissed until it was time to dress for the evening. She had done an admirable job of preparing her mistress for the period of rest before the evening’s ball to celebrate the arranged marriage between two ancient families, but the countess wished for employment to distract her from her anger.
“We must not be too hasty; until he gets her with child the ink on the registry book is hardly dry. A dispatch did leave for London to release the loan, so at least His Grace has kept his word in that regard.”
Margaret Fitzwilliam scoffed, and whirled around on the stool in front of the vanity.
“Surely you’re jesting?” she confronted her husband.
Henry Fitzwilliam made an expression of confusion, and his wife’s mouth turned into a teasing smile. “Tell me,” she pressed the hairbrush thoughtfully against the palm of her free hand, “did you not find it odd that the marriage contract explicitly spelled out Lady Brahmington’s personal maid is to travel with them at all times and may not be dismissed without consent of her ladyship?”
Henry Fitzwilliam stammered as he grumbled something unintelligible, and his wife asked him to repeat his remark.
“I should find it not so strange the young woman wishes familiarity to follow her in a new life as a young bride.”
The earl removed his boots as a signal to his wife that he intended to rest with her before the ball. Margaret smiled as Henry struggled to unbutton his own vest and remove the garment that was rather snug around his broad shoulders.
“I believe that we might not be the only parents relieved to find a match for our child beyond the ballrooms of London.”
As Henry Fitzwilliam lowered himself onto the bed, he winced and clasped his right side. The sharp pain just below his rib cage reminded him of his years as his wife spoke glibly of successors; he found the topic rather too morbid for his tastes.
“Should I call for the doctor?” The countess showed genuine concern for her husband of over two decades.
“No, no, you did warn me to cease eating the duck.”
“It does not always agree with you.” Lady Matlock joined her husband on the tightly-strung mattress and wiggled to find a comfortable position in the bed still not quite a favorite despite them being guests of the Percy family for many weeks. Just as her breathing began to regulate, his digestive attack subsided and her husband recalled another subject matter he wished to speak about to his wife.
“Your mentioning of the odd contract reminds me. I meant to speak with you about George Wickham.”
Lady Matlock made a slight groan, as she did truly wish to take a rest and found her husband’s subject matter most tiresome. “What has Georgiana’s husband to do with anything?”
“Do you recall the dinner where Lord Hampton would not cease talking about his race horses? ‘Twas the night the duchess dropped her wineglass.”
Lady Matlock fully groaned and finally turned to her husband, giving up on finding a period of rest before their continued social requirements that evening. The schedule of activities and pleasure for most of London’s elite had worn her down beyond her years.
“It was the same evening I was stuck sitting next to Lady Iris, who spent the majority of the meal breaking wind in a most foul manner without sound so as not to require any pardons. But the stench was so great that, when we separated after the meal, I merely excused myself for the night.”
“Yes, I came to you from the billiard room but you had already retired for the evening and I did not wish to disturb you. And then I forgot–”
“Well, for heaven’s sake, tell me now before you forget again.” Margaret Fitzwilliam challenged her husband to bring him back to the point at hand.
“Did you know Darcy visited His Grace at Syon House and made some sort of arrangement concerning George Wickham?”
Margaret Fitzwilliam felt a digestive attack of her own that had nothing to do with what she had eaten, but what she knew of George Wickham’s lineage. “Henry, what if the duke takes an interest in Mr. Wickham?”
Henry rubbed his chin as he struggled to understand his wife’s drift. “That was the thing, he asked me if I could confirm Wickham’s parents. I thought it was common knowledge he was de Bourgh’s bastard, but no one takes an interest in such natural children so wholly unconnected to them.”
“George Wickham’s mother is Hugh Percy’s sister-in-law, the late Elizabeth Burell.” Lady Matlock watched her husband cringe as, though he was not as gifted in strategy as she, he was no simpleton either.
“Oh dear, if he learns—”
“We must leave for London at once,” Margaret Fitzwilliam pronounced as she rose from the bed. “And we must write to Darcy. I do not want to make the same mistakes that caused us to scramble before.” She hinted at the fact that they had not taken Fitzwilliam, nor their son Richard, into their confidences last winter when it came to the subject of the inheritance of Rosings. As a result, the estate was placed into even greater peril and a young woman was nearly killed from the machinations of Henry’s sister, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
“And what of James? Should we leave him here for the wolves? I do not believe he will be safe. Their blood runs hot with gambling and sport.”
Margaret Fitzwilliam froze, a dilemma horrible for any mother with two children in danger and the faculties and resources to only help one. She remembered the sensitive boy that grew up into her eldest son, a man addicted to his vices and always looking for an escape from his responsibilities. But in great contrast to James stood Richard, her second son who had served his country and represented the family well. Though the futures of both of her sons lay in reckless positions, the merits of the men they became settled the score. James lost.
“I shall write to Darcy, and you can create an excuse for why your business calls you to London. Ask James to come along with us, though I sincerely doubt he will leave the life of luxury and leisure His Grace appears to offer.”
Her husband grimly agreed with her and suggested they both take a rest before seeing to their duties. Unfortunately, his wife disagreed and felt there was precious little time to pen a letter and make preparations so that they might leave in the morning.
NEW RELEASE
For the Love of a Bennet
What if Elizabeth Bennet traveled with Lydia to Brighton?
A reimagining of Jane Austen’s most beloved tale, Pride & Prejudice, join author Elizabeth Ann West as she writes the romantic adventure story she always wanted! When Lizzy and Lydia arrive in Brighton, it’s very clear that the younger Bennet sister came with very serious plans towards Mr. Wickham. Thankfully, an old ally is also in town, with problems of his own to solve. After Mr. Darcy, himself, is summoned to Brighton to hopefully solve two dilemmas with one wealthy member of the gentry, the whole militia is thrown into an uproar by Wickham’s most dastardly deed, yet. Together, Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy have to save Lydia from her own undoing, or it will mean more than just mere reputations are ruined.
For the Love of a Bennet is a novel length story, currently being posted chapter by chapter on Elizabeth’s author site. This story was originally conceptualized in 2019 as a part of the All Go to Brighton challenge.
Chapter 24 - The Trappings of Marriage, a Pride and Prejudice Variation
A new arrival brought less joy than anxiety to Elizabeth Darcy as she inspected her riding costume in a full-length mirror. Another gift, another set of attire from her beloved, and she liked it far less than the last one. Fitzwilliam had kissed her farewell more than a quarter hour ago as the arrival of her new pony had been announced, and he left to see to the details. Elizabeth recalled her continued objections that she did not ride horses well and her husband’s voice echoed in her head:
“Have you ever been set upon a pony selected only for your own use?”
Red-faced and ashamed she responded that she had not as, though her family owned a number of horses, they were not so wealthy as to have a steed selected for each individual family member. Her father had his favorite ride, and Jane had taken to the mare most often available for the girls to use. And so Elizabeth sniffed and tugged on her spencer one last time as her maid, Higgins, complimented her mistress as to how finely-cut the entire outfit appeared.
“I suppose if I should fall, I shall be spectacularly dressed for the event.” Elizabeth laughed, but then allowed her chuckle to trail off when her maid did not join her in her frivolity like she once had. Elizabeth twisted her lips as she considered Higgins with greater interest. Coming to Scotland had changed both of them, and though Elizabeth could not say that she preferred it over the easier way maidens seemed to have with their maids, it was not a change completely unwelcome. As her personal relationship with Betsy had become more formal and perhaps a touch stiff, it had been replaced with the blossoming friendship between herself and her husband. Mentally, she tucked away that question until she could next meet again with Jane or her Aunt Gardiner. Perhaps the sequence of change in her personal life fit a natural order that she had never known.
Outdoors, Elizabeth’s courage felt as fleeting as the wind rippling the split skirt around her legs. Mr. Darcy stood frocked in a fresh riding costume himself, his strong legs accentuated by the tan breeches, and a black velvet coat that made his dark eyes sparkle against his roguish curls. Elizabeth enjoyed his more informal hairstyling over the more carefully coiffed expectation of Society. As he felt the same about her own tresses, once they were inside for the evening she often restyled her hair to flow completely freely or with only half of it pinned atop her head.
“And what is the name of my new friend?” Elizabeth surprised her husband by fearlessly standing next to him and addressing the beast’s face so that she might rub its nose.
Mr. Darcy cleared his throat as he held the reins for his wife’s horse. “I trust my breeder with my life. This is one of the most gentle mares in the paddock. Her name is Serenity.”
As if recognizing her name the horse blew out a snort, and nodded her head in Elizabeth’s hand as she clucked her tongue.
“You don’t like being described as gentle, do you?” Elizabeth asked the horse that could not talk in a mischievous tone as her husband stared in even more befuddlement at the two. He cleared his throat to start again. Elizabeth pretended to hear what the horse had to say before laughing. Realizing her husband’s aggravation over being the butt of her joke, Elizabeth abandoned the horse and gently ran her gloved hand across her husband’s bicep.
“Do not feel cross, Fitzwilliam. I am here as I said I would.”
“Yes, for your riding lessons; I supposed that we should—”
Elizabeth interrupted him with another laugh as she took the reins, placing her left leg in the stirrup before pulling herself up and wrapping her right leg around the pommel to sit perfectly sidesaddle with a tall posture. Serenity displayed the discipline of her training as she slightly adjusted for the addition of her rider, but remained still as Mr. Darcy’s own steed held by a groom a few paces away showed slight agitation that one horse was mounted and not himself.
“I thought you said that you could not ride,” he said as Elizabeth peered down imperiously at him.
“I never said I could not ride; only that I do not ride well, for I have never found much enjoyment in the endeavor.”
Elizabeth clicked her tongue and gently nudged her newest friend to take a slow walk around the paddock. Mr. Darcy mounted his own steed and made a decision that, instead of feeling angry at misunderstanding his wife’s abilities, he would take her at her word and merely accelerate his goals for the day.
“If finding your enjoyment is the only lacking matter, then follow me and try to keep up!” He nodded, and the gate to the paddock was opened.
With the slightest of encouragement, his horse happily took the invitation to leave the practice ring. Elizabeth held her reins and nudged Serenity into a higher gear, but the horse described as the most gentle steed in the pasture also needed little encouragement. And it was as Elizabeth suspected: any horse could be plenty gentle within the confines of a smaller grazing area, but allowing any creature with a predilection to run into open land and it’s rather hard to deny them their natural habits.
And for once, the wind whipping her face, the chase of her love before her, Elizabeth felt an exhilaration none of her father’s old horses could provide. She was free. She felt as though she were flying in comparison to the lacking pace of a walk.
When both animals began to show signs of fatigue from the open run, the happy couple enjoyed a gentle walk side by side on the trail that, while familiar to Fitzwilliam, suddenly became unfamiliar to Elizabeth as they surpassed the point she’d ever explored with walking.
She briefly looked over her shoulder in the direction of Carver House and could scarcely make out where the house should be through the trees and across the open field that served as a back lawn to the estate. The trail grew narrower and slightly rocky as they progressed with a slight incline before them. Fitzwilliam was forced to take the lead, and the two horses walked one after the other up the winding hill to an unnamed destination. More than a few times Mr. Darcy had to duck his head, for the trail had begun to grow over with low-hanging branches.
Elizabeth laughed merrily as, not a half-hour into their ride, her husband’s low baritone voice began to sing a tune that started off innocent enough, but quickly turned to bawdy lyrics that made Elizabeth blush. She added her own soprano for the second chorus, which both surprised and delighted Fitzwilliam until, at last, they reached the end of the trail and a breathtaking view that made Elizabeth gasp.
Darcy descended from his horse and quickly moved to assist Elizabeth. She welcomed the opportunity to slide down into his arms.
The salty sea air pricked the delicate skin of her face, and Elizabeth inhaled sharply through her nose.
“Oh, Fitzwilliam,” she clung to him, suddenly awash with a greater need of his embrace as the excitement of their adventures overwhelmed her senses and hastened her heartbeat. As her small hand crept up to his chest and slipped below the lapel, she could feel his own beating at a cadence that matched hers.
She leaned back and gazed all around them, amazed at the dotted landscape of the tiny town below them next to the roaring sea with a frothy white anger on the eastern side. Their elevation placed them hundreds of feet above the surrounding countryside, and Elizabeth squealed in delight as her eyes took in every detail. Darcy lifted her and spun them, planting a kiss ever so delicately on her lips before he took her hand and led her closer to the edge. He wanted her look over the hill, but not so near as to risk them falling.
“How could anyone dare to leave such a beautiful place?” she marveled, thinking not just about the vistas spread before her, but also the heart and soul of the people. Although her relationship with Betsy had changed to a more formal standpoint, the rest of the staff of Carver House had taken to their bonny lass with the fervor and dedication afforded to people born into a long-standing family. There were not the suspicious gazes and whispered remarks when Elizabeth entered the room as there had been at Pemberley.
“What if–” a strong gust of wind assaulted them both as Fitzwilliam grasped Elizabeth to keep her from toppling over, though she cried again in delight at Mother Nature’s blustery blows. “What if we chose to remain here? In Scotland?”
“But Pemberley is your home.” Elizabeth looked up at her husband with consternation painted across her face.
Fitzwilliam bent down, licking his lips, and kissed his Elizabeth with the fiery passion of a man in need. She began to feel the stirrings of her own passion when the kiss suddenly ended. Fitzwilliam sighed, and pressed his forehead against hers.
“My home is any place that I am with you.”
Elizabeth Darcy found she could not argue with that, and it was not long before the newlyweds decided, as beautiful as the prospect was, they needed to return home for some much needed discussion and deliberation. After such beauty as that, and coming to feel satisfied in helping to fulfill her husband’s every need, the small remainder of her soul that still felt a part of Elizabeth Bennet seemed to disappear.
As they rode their horses in a much more leisurely pace back home, Elizabeth began to feel her husband’s sentiments were her own. She only wished she was better at telling him her thoughts and emotions, as he was.
You’ve been reading The Trappings of Marriage
Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet are off to Gretna Green!
In Book 4 of the Moralities of Marriage series our dear couple have survived accidents, forced marriages, and meddling relatives. After a short stay at Pemberley where the future Mrs. Darcy comes to terms with the kind of wife Fitzwilliam Darcy will need on his arm, they take off for the border to marry over the anvil. When Mr. Darcy plans an idyllic wedding trip to his family estate just outside of Dumfries, the newly married Mr. and Mrs. Darcy discover the trappings of marriage have yet to relinquish their hold.
The Trappings of Marriage delivers the highs of the Darcys’ love and devotion in spite of the lows of scandal and destruction they left behind in England. Join author Elizabeth Ann West and the thousands of readers who read this book as it was posted chapter by chapter for a unique visit into the world of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice.
The Trappings of Marriage, Book 4 of the Moralities of Marriage
a Pride and Prejudice novel variation series
Release Date: August 26, 2017
394 pages in print.
+ 23 additional Pride & Prejudice variations are available at these fine retailers . . .
Keep reading more by clicking below!
A Jane-of-all-trades, mistress to none! Elizabeth Ann West is the author of 8 novels and 11 novellas, 18 of which are story variations of Jane Austen’s Pride & Prejudice.