I am so happy for the Colonel and Anne… and boy, Georgiana is a handful! But I wrote her at her worst because I really think a young woman who had been through what she had been through, fed the half-truths she was fed, would be an absolute impossible creature to deal with. Like many teenagers!
XOXOXO Elizabeth Ann West
Chapter 25 - The Trappings of Marriage, a Pride and Prejudice Variation
A letter meticulously framed with a black edge lay upon a mahogany table in the parlor of Rosings. Behind the table, Lady Catherine de Bourgh sat enthroned upon her favorite armchair, her lips pursed as she glared at the dreadful missive. It had not been addressed to her, but to her nephew married to her daughter. And she profoundly resented information disturbing her afternoon that failed to arrive through her as the proper primary channel for consideration.
“Despite your kindness, Mother, I do not wish to impose and already informed my husband that I am quite capable of staying in the dowager cottage until he returns from London.” Anne Fitzwilliam voiced her opinion on the matter up for discussion in the richly decorated room of golds and maroons. But she knew herself to be helplessly outnumbered, two to one.
“The dowager cottage? Out of the question! No, no, on this matter Richard and I agree. We shall have your trunks packed for you this afternoon. You can move into your old room. You won’t be a bother to anyone there,” Lady Catherine decreed as Anne’s face crumpled,crestfallen.
It had been bad luck that Anne greedily kept Richard from leaving for London over a week ago when he might have left to deliver evidence against the estate’s parson, William Collins. Anne keenly worried about both the needs and wishes of her cousin, Fitzwilliam Darcy, and his wife to see justice done, and yet she held a tender, soft spot for her friendship with the parson’s wife, Charlotte. Day after day, she had derived an excuse for Richard to wait, the most recent being the revelation she suspected herself to be with child. When the letter came that forced his hand to go to London, a death in the family, the nervous father-to-be abhorred the idea of his wife alone. Even if the only recourse was to use his wife’s mother as a caregiver.
“Perhaps as a compromise to my wife’s wishes, we might allow her to select the rooms in which she will stay while I’m away. I suspect it shall not take me long to set Georgiana’s affairs in order until Darcy can return.” Richard Fitzwilliam cracked his knuckles as he observed the exchange between his wife and her mother. He had forgotten the years of monstrous misuse his precious Anne endured at the hands of Catherine the Bully. But he remained in an unfavorable position.
Richard could not encourage Anne to travel, nor did he wish to leave her alone in her condition. He could not ignore the letter, though it did feel as though he was forced to put his own family’s needs below that of his obligation to his ward. He finally understood how Darcy had felt those many months with Miss Bennet. The inconvenient burden of tidying up another mess to do with the Wickhams did not sit well with the old soldier accustomed to efficiency and discipline.
“Days? It should take no more than two! Bring the girl here! There can be nothing left for her in London now that her husband is dead.” Lady Catherine appeared unaffected by the glances shared between Richard and Anne.
Anne silently implored her husband to not flap his lips by jutting out her chin, slightly straining her neck. She had not told her mother of the letter they had from Georgiana about expecting a child and wishing their aid to convince Darcy into taking her home toPemberley.
Richard uncomfortably cleared his throat and picked up the announcement of George Wickham’s death that had been addressed to him. He held the dark omen for the information he was about to share with his aunt.
“My last letter from our cousin imparted she is in the family way and sought assistance to plead with Darcy. Georgiana wishes to have her child at Pemberley.” Richard watched carefully for some signs of understanding by his aunt, but Lady Catherine merely waved her hand as though Richard had asked for some silly indulgence. Anne looked away from her husband to hide her disappointment.
“I should think it more appropriate for her to have her child here. At Rosings.”
“Mother, you should not be so crass.” Anne Fitzwilliam intoned, her voice breaking with the pain of her mother’s rejection.
“I am practical. It is well known in the family, now that the bastard son of my late husband was shot dead on the street. Should we deny the innocent babe his birthright? That is, of course, if your progeny should not survive.”
Richard’s face turned a scarlet red as Anne’s slackened to a palewhite.
“How could you speak so lightly of my wife losing our child?”
Lady Catherine pointed a fat, bejeweled finger at her wayward nephew, and clicked her tongue in annoyance. “I suppose you think me cavalier with my daughter’s life? But you have it all wrong. You took such right to be concerned the moment you two married against my wishes and without my knowledge. I had my plans to protect her. If she dies bearing your child it is not my sword that shall have been the murder weapon, but yours.”
Richard began to show signs of losing his temper with his aunt once more, when Anne stood and walked protectively to stand next to her husband. Gently, she placed a hand upon his arm, giving him reason to hesitate long enough for her to broker the peace.
“It is decided that I shall stay at Rosings while you are in London. And you should fetch Georgiana and bring her here; she is young and friendless. But we are her family.” Anne kept a firm grip on her husband’s arm, hoping now he would understand her needs insilence.
Lady Catherine smiled smugly. Finally, her world felt back under her good regulation. She had suffered a steep blow when her machinations fell apart in orchestrating a sham wedding between her daughter and her other nephew, Fitzwilliam Darcy. A loveless marriage could be trusted to minimize risk to Anne’s health.
But fickle Fate had given Catherine a new opportunity to keep control of her home. Had neither George Wickham nor Anne produced a child, the estate would fall into the hands of the de Bourgh family. If Anne should falter in her breeding, Lady Catherine could always use the original will as leverage to keep the house in the ways she preferred since the heir would be none other than her great-niece or nephew. Georgiana would remember who came to her aid in her darkest hour. As far as Lady Catherine was concerned, a sixteen-year-old widow held no business running her own life.
Although Anne agreed to stay at Rosings, she refused her mother’s suggestion that she go up to the blue suite of rooms that she had chosen for her overnight stay, and instead joined her husband back at their cottage while he packed. The curricle had not traveled far before Anne broke the quiet between them to give him further instructions.
“I am not distressed if it is Georgiana’s child that should inherit Rosings instead of me. I only worry for you.”
Richard steered the ponies around the bend for the quarter mile to their small abode.
“Worry for me? If your mother thinks she will ingratiate herself into Georgiana’s good graces, she forgets how hard she was on the child anytime Darcy brought her to visit. But it’s no matter, I will not lose you, and we will not lose the baby. This home is yours to inherit.”
“I would not underestimate my mother. I know your father has assured us that the Wickhams cannot make a claim to the estate, but I do not trust her.”
Richard shrugged, then twitched violently as a fly buzzed around his ear. Swatting away the offending insect he bumped into his wife, who shuffled to bump him right back with her shoulder, and the happy couple began to laugh despite the heavy topic of death andinheritance.
“I do not underestimate Catherine, not in the way that she underestimated me for many years to our benefit.” Richard turned to smile at his wife, who slyly turned away with a blush. It was true that the two cousins had enjoyed a scandalous romance in the years since their majority while her mother thought only of matching Anne with Fitzwilliam. “But even if she kept an original copy of the will, how is she ever going to explain the fraudulent copy on file with the barristers? Besides, it’s no matter—for I shall not lose you, and we shall not lose the baby.” He repeated his most fervent wish in the world as though it were a prayer.
The dowager cottage lay before them, just down the lane. Anne thought of what else was revealed in their audience with her mother. She seized Richard’s arm as she recalled.
“My mother knew I was with child; I did tell you we have spies. What if she knows of your other aims?”
Richard slowed the ponies to afford them more privacy to talk, and lowered his voice.
“I shall take care, but please remember I have fought in greater wars than a family squabble.”
Anne’s imagination flashed the image of George Wickham shot dead in the streets, and she couldn’t escape the worry. “Still, if Mother has a plan to protect that parson of hers…”
“You believe it to be the kitchen maid who ferries information across the lawns, yes?”
Anne nodded as the curricle came to a halt in front of their precious little cottage. The cornflowers in the front yard had bloomed, and lined the cobbled path from the white gate to the front door. She waited for Richard to hand the reins to the groom and then walk around to assist her down from her seat.
“Is she not also tasked with the laundry?” Richard asked.
Anne’s eyes lifted to meet his as he pulled her closer thannecessary.
“And my mother would ask to be told if my courses had notcome.”
“Precisely.”
Richard placed a kiss on his wife’s hand as he turned to lead her inside, the melancholy of having to leave her for the first time palpable to his senses. He could easily saddle his horse and ride the thirty miles of good road to London that evening, but planned to take a carriage in the morning since he was now fetching Georgiana instead of merely seeing her settled.
Anne giggled as Richard’s other hand whipped out to brush the top of the blue flowers before he plucked one to present to her.
“You will leave tomorrow?” Anne felt a wash of guilt as she reasoned as well that her husband’s travel plans must change frombefore.
“Yes, which means let us have a good meal tonight and a peaceful night alone.”
Chapter 26 - The Trappings of Marriage, a Pride and Prejudice Variation
Mrs. Darcy ventured out of Carver House to explore the village of Dumfries, with her trusted maid and the housekeeper, Mrs. McSorley. The three women shared a mutual mission of securing the household linens, calicos, and other household purchases that were routinely handled by Mrs. McSorley. However, Elizabeth felt it deserved her touch now that she and Mr. Darcy resided in the home.
The well-sprung carriage brought them to Market Cross as the charming village bustled with activity. Down the lane stood the impressive Midsteeple in the high afternoon sun; Elizabeth scrunched up her nose to recall Mr. Darcy telling her about the architecture of the village before they left. He had wished to accompany her, but she successfully negotiated for him to stay home and catch up on his correspondence while she hastened to her rightful duties. But her ultimate motive was to keep him home so that she might also select a surprise gift for the man who had bestowed such surprises upon her as a sapphire jewelry set, fencing costume, and a new horse.
As the ladies began walking the freshly swept, cobbled walkway closest to the shop doors away from the filth of the streets, Elizabeth looked around to orient herself with the layout of the buildings.
“I know the late poet Robert Burns was from here; was his house on High Street?”
“His house be at the very end of the town, Mrs. Darcy. But I’m afraid to say there is nothing left of the great man but his writing.” Mrs. McSorley sighed, finding the exuberance of her mistress to be a new reality she still worked to accept.
Elizabeth’s energy continued at a visit to the drapers, and she and Mrs. McSorley clashed slightly over the amount of cloth that Elizabeth purchased. An appointment was made for the dressmakers to come to Carver House on the morrow to outfit Mrs. Darcy with more gowns and accouterments, since she and Mr. Darcy intended to remain for some time.
A bookstore across the lane offered a few treasures, but Mrs. Darcy felt disappointed. A new folio paled in comparison to the delight her Fitzwilliam had provided with his generosity. She insisted they continue shopping even as Betsy suggested she might be tired.
“Just one year ago, do you know I regularly trekked my father’s lands from dawn to noon? I am quite capable of exploring more of this charming hamlet,” Elizabeth said, finding the consideration for her needs an endearing quality of Betsy.
The candlemaker visit, while necessary, also did not produce any results, but neither did Elizabeth expect the shop to do so. She considered a visit to the tailor, but she had not brought Simmons. And she had failed to consult with him as to the contents of her husband’s wardrobe.
A silversmith across the street caught Elizabeth’s eye, and they fetched the carriage to take them around the block to pull up in front of the establishment.
“Is there something amiss with the silver set?” Mrs. McSorley inquired.
Elizabeth shook her head. “No, no, the silver set is most satisfactory and has been well cared for. I would like to pick out a gift for Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth blushed to admit such an aim.
“Oh, that is a superb idea, Mrs. Darcy. I think he shall enjoy that very much!” A glimmer of Betsy Higgins’ easy way with her mistress again appeared before Mrs. McSorley gave her a sharp look of disapproval. But Elizabeth did not mind. She reached forward and clasped Betsy’s hands to squeeze them in celebration.
“You must come inside with me and help me select a proper gift for him.” Deep in Elizabeth’s heart, a small twinge of dissatisfaction reminded her she was asking her maid a question she might pose to one of her sisters also just one year ago. But she refused to dwell on such maudlin sentiments and remembered this was about Fitzwilliam, not her.
Betsy agreed even as Mrs. McSorley began to shake her head, but the two younger women ignored their elder. Mrs. Darcy alighted from the carriage first, followed closely by her maid, and the two women entered the silver shop with their eyes wide in wonder.
Ancient symbols of heraldry, from falcons to stags, decorated most of the cups, tableware, and metals carefully displayed in glass showcases. A tall, stout man introduced himself as Mr. Daniel Gray. Not recognizing either of the women, Mr. Gray’s manners proved terse as he asked the ladies what assistance he might provide.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Gray. I am Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy, and this is my maid, Higgins. I should like to select a gift for my husband if you would be so kind as to assist.”
“Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy? Can’t say that I’ve heard of him.” Mr. Gray adjusted his spectacles as the fine clothing of the lady in front of him made her tale appear to be true, but there were many who traveled looking beyond their station to get credit where credit was not due.
“Have you not heard that Carver House has reopened for the master or mistress?” Higgins spoke out of turn, but did not enjoy seeing Elizabeth subjected to this man’s scorn when her lady was all that was fine and kind.
“Perhaps you carry some letter from your husband to approve of this spending?” Mr. Gray began to sneer at the ladies as he considered simply sending them away before entertaining this farce of a complete stranger further when the door behind them opened once more.
“Danny Gray, I know you are not giving Mrs. Darcy a lick of trouble this afternoon,” Mrs. McSorley chastised the shop owner, who scowled as Elizabeth and Higgins shared a giggle.
Elizabeth did not feel fussed the shop owners were reluctant to allow her to purchase with nothing but her word. She had seen a similar treatment of strangers in Meryton, when she spent many an afternoon at the bookstore while her mother and sisters were costumed at the dressmaker.
As Mr. Gray fumbled his apologies, Elizabeth arched an eyebrow and asked again for her query. Mr. Gray bustled behind the counter and began to pull an elegant array of snuff boxes lined with ivory and mother of pearl for Mrs. Darcy’s inspection.
But Elizabeth frowned.
“I’m afraid my husband does not enjoy the habit. Do you have anything more unique?”
Mr. Gray looked at the fresh-faced Mrs. Darcy in consternation. His eyes flicked to Mrs. McSorley, who slowly gave a nod.
Mr. Gray rubbed his chin and asked a simply odd question. “Is Mr. Darcy a modern sort of man?”
The odd question caused Higgins and Elizabeth to look at one another in confusion; Higgins shrugged her shoulders and Elizabeth tentatively nodded.
“My husband is a well-read man of many ideas. I am not sure I understand the context of your question.”
“Wait here, if you please.” Mr. Gray left the counter to tuck into a back room, leaving Mrs. Darcy bewildered as to how a shopping excursion to find a gift for her husband turned into such a mysterious exercise. Shortly, Mr. Gray returned with an elegant silver teapot, piping hot, that he sat up on the counter.
Elizabeth pursed her lips as Mr. Gray warned them not to touch it, for it was hot, and disappeared once more into the back room. She did not wish to give her husband a tea kettle. Not even a silver one.
“This is all a bit ridiculous,” Mrs. Darcy said under her breath, but Mrs. McSorley offered a cryptic explanation.
“Have you heard of the work of William Symington?”
Elizabeth shook her head, and Mrs. McSorley only smiled. She did not wish to ruin the great surprise that she suspected was coming.
Mr. Gray returned with a silver and gold contraption of wheels, pulleys, and a large boxy design on the back end. As he carefully set the mechanical wonder on the counter, Elizabeth and Higgins took a natural step back as Mr. Gray began to describe what he had brought out to show them.
“Now, you won’t find this in any of your fancy shops in London—this be a Dumfries wonder if I ever saw one. You pour the hot water into this here box.” Mr. Gray lifted the silver lid and slowly poured the piping hot water into the reservoir and closed it. “And you light a small fire in the box below.” Mr. Gray filled the lower box with small sticks and fetched a small coal from the fire with a tiny set of silver tongs.
And then nothing happened.
The pristine polished metal of gears and wheels lay just as elegantly upon the counter as it had before he poured the water into the reservoir.
Sensing their lack of trust, Mr. Gray encouraged them to wait. Within a few moments, a small puff of steam began to snake out the top end of the pipe; he fumbled for a stopper, claiming that he had forgotten. As soon as the damper plugged the hole, things began to move on the sculpture. A cog began to turn, which turned another cog, and finally a wheel spun, flashing the sunlight that glimmered from an open window behind them. Elizabeth had never seen anything like it.
“How marvelous! You mean to tell me it runs on water?” Elizabeth leaned forward, as if she might touch it, but Mr. Gray stopped her.
“You don’t want to be doing that, Mrs. Darcy; the metal can get quite hot. It runs on the steam, you see, like the engines.”
Elizabeth clapped her gloved hands in delight. She had heard of massive steam engines used in factories from newspaper articles she had read and of the poor workers replaced by such advancements that tried to break them. But she had never seen such a demonstration of the power of steam.
“And this is available for purchase? I cannot imagine another gift for Fitzwilliam!” Elizabeth almost added ‘nor such a treasure to take home’, but she prevented such a qualifier from tumbling out of her mouth. She had to remain disciplined in keeping her wishes to return to England private, as her husband so dearly wanted to stay inScotland.
Mr. Gray looked once more to Mrs. McSorley, who rolled her eyes at the man she would always know as young Danny before she nodded again. This time, the affront aggravated Elizabeth, and her tone turned icy.
“Mr. Gray, as remarkable as your contraption is, it is I, Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy, who is making the purchase. Perhaps you should concentrate more upon satisfying my concerns than look to my housekeeper for constant approval.”
Mr. Gray again fumbled his apologies, and Elizabeth forgave him by asking what happens when you remove the damper. Mr. Gray used the small set of tongs to remove the small piece of oil paper crumpled into a ball, which acted as a release valve for the pent-up steam to suddenly come billowing out of the top of the last pipe.
“You have to demonstrate for him, Mrs. Darcy, to be careful when you release the pressure. It doesn’t look that strong, but it can slice a right nasty cut into your hand.”
Elizabeth nodded to signify she understood, and asked for the tongs to be added to the package for delivery to Carver House. She gave careful instructions for all items to be wrapped and delivered with the linens and other cloths she ordered from the other shops. To Mrs. McSorley she made certain that the instructions were clear that Mr. Darcy’s gift was not to be taken to him, but instead to her so that she might present it.
Mrs. McSorley agreed with her mistress as Elizabeth and Higgins talked of nothing but the steam engine the entire way home to Carver House. As steam engines had been in use in Dumfries for many decades, Mrs. McSorley found the interests of Mrs. Darcy and Higgins to be a reminder of the marvels even she had taken for granted.
Over the last mile to the house, Mrs. McSorley shared with them stories of the public tests out on the canals and the river Ness, and how she remembered a young Fitzwilliam being taken by his father to see the steamboat’s trials.
“But I’m not sure the lad will remember, as he was barely breeched when he was taken to see the show.”
“Did both of his parents take him to see the trials?” Elizabeth asked, earnestly.
Mrs. McSorley squinted her eyes as she tried to recall. The carriage slowed down to signal they had arrived back at Carver.
“I believe they did. It was the last summer that Mr. and Mrs. Darcy came to Carver, you see.”
As the carriage came to a complete stop and Elizabeth waited for the brakes to be applied, she grinned to herself and fluttered her hands in her lap. She had selected the gift merely for its uniqueness, but now, with any luck, the presentation would give her husband a happy memory to recall from his childhood.
She was still new to this business of being a wife, but began to feel she was finding her way into providing for Fitzwilliam’s every need. And waiting for a proper time to show him the steam contraption was her next hurdle to overcome.
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 27 - The Trappings of Marriage, a Pride and Prejudice Variation
Mrs. Potter, the housekeeper of Darcy House in London, felt enormous cheer as the cavalry arrived from Rosings. She had always admired the master’s cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, for his genteel manners and strong sense of duty to this country and family. She also remembered he was the only one to physically thrash that coward, Wickham, when the tragic couple surfaced from the slums of London trying to claim Georgiana’s dowry.
“Blessings to you for coming so soon, Colonel,” Mrs. Potter fussed over the man.
“Has there been any word from Mr. Darcy?” Before he had left Rosings, Richard had collected all of the correspondence from his cousin Fitzwilliam, to include the latest letter the confirmed Darcy and Elizabeth had married over the anvil.
The housekeeper of the London townhome shook her head. “I’m afraid not, but they are far, and I do so hope the master and Miss Bennet found their happiness.”
Despite the grim reason for his sudden appearance in London, Richard Fitzwilliam could not help but smile at the mention of the couple that he and his wife owed so much to for their own happiness. Mrs. Potter clasped the brooch at her breast.
“Truly?”
Richard nodded.
Mrs. Potter covered her mouth with her hand and looked up at the ceiling to thank the good Lord for this small bit of good news that Mr. Darcy had married his bride at last. She knew that young woman was special the day she came to return the book, and Providence saw fit to follow through!
Richard left Mrs. Potter to climb the familiar stairs, and knocked while announcing himself outside of Georgiana’s room. To his surprise, his cousin did not open the door, but a slightly worse for wear Caroline Bingley permitted him entrance.
“Miss Bingley,” Richard bowed to the woman to give her due respect; she scarcely curtsied and acknowledged his presence. His eyes struggled to see, as the drapes remained closed in the room. He felt enveloped by constant darkness with nothing but a lone candle lit on the bureau.
“Georgie?” he asked as a soft moan came from the direction of the bed.
Richard entered the center of the room to find the Widow Wickham lying in her bed, her arm bent dramatically over her forehead. While he felt sympathy for his young cousin, such theatrics did not hold water with his military background.
“Let’s open these curtains and allow some light, shall we?” Richard began pulling the cords as Georgiana moaned even louder.
“I have no wish to see the sun; it holds no joy for me,” Georgiana announced better than an actress on a stage.
“I have heard that lying in bed all day is not good for one’s constitution, particularly if one is with child.” Richard startled both of the women in the room to discuss such a feminine subject.
“And what would you know about bearing children?”
Richard turned around from the open windows and refused to give into the shock of seeing how pale Georgiana had become, wearing the black and taking to her bed. He wondered if perhaps she had not been lying down when he arrived and merely took the position since she appeared dressed in a day gown, which would not be comfortable for spending one’s life in bed.
“I have read books on the subject now that your cousin Anne also suspects she might be carrying my son,” Richard pronounced, unable to hide the pride of an expecting father from his voice.
“Congratulations to you and your wife, Colonel,” Miss Bingley uttered, reminding the Colonel she was even in the room, as he had quite forgotten. Georgiana slit her eyes in the direction of her friend, privately questioning her loyalties.
“Do you know where they buried my husband?”
“I came as soon as the letter arrived. Why did you not send it as an Express?” Richard seemed bewildered, as neither of the two women offered an explanation for the haphazard manner in which the correspondence was conducted.
“In a pauper’s field!” Georgiana did not address the criticism of how her husband’s death announcements were handled, and continued to heap blame upon Richard for the lack of funds for even a decent burial. But Richard held his hands up to signal he would hear no more.
“You forget that my position was for not a farthing to be given to you or to that scoundrel. If Darcy finally saw fit to curtail your childish behavior with tightening the purse strings, you have only yourself to blame.” Richard’s voice began to rise in volume, and he had to remind himself that his cousin was young and also with child.
Once he had calmed his temper, Richard related the offer from Lady Catherine. “As we do not know when your brother and his wife will return from Scotland, we believe it best for you to come and live with us at Rosings.”
“You mean where my husband should have been buried with his ancestors.” Georgiana revealed in one statement that she knew far more about her husband’s heritage than any of the family had given her credit. This revelation distracted both herself and Richard from Miss Bingley taking a stagger and grasping the chair next to the writing desk for support.
“How long have you known?” the Colonel asked in an unaffected tone. While others in the family might believe that George and Georgiana deserved to know the possibility he could have inherited Rosings, Richard’s loyalties lay with Anne. As far as he was concerned the estate rightfully belonged to his wife, and never should have been put into a trust for mismanagement as it had for nearly fifteen years.
Georgiana refused to answer and finally looked at Miss Bingley, who appeared white as a sheet. But before the young woman could inquire after her friend, Mrs. Potter arrived in the doorway to announce another visitor.
“Mrs. Hurst has arrived; should I instruct her to come above stairs?”
Caroline released the back of the chair and stood straighter.
“No, no, I will come speak to her down below to give Mrs. Wickham and the Colonel some privacy. You’ll have to excuse me.”
The two cousins did not wait long before continuing their argument over Rosings and the murder of George Wickham.
Caroline flinched; she could hear Georgiana’s shrieks echoing down the staircase as she found her sister waiting in the foyer.
“My sister and I will speak in the parlor, if you do not mind.” The housekeeper agreed, and escorted the two women to the front room before closing the door behind her. She still held duties to fulfill. With the arrival of the Colonel, accommodations had to be made for that evening’s dinner, and Mrs. Potter excused herself politely.
Louisa smiled as the door opened and closed once more to leave her alone with Caroline. Sounds of the tantrum again could be heard briefly before they were suddenly silenced.
“I hear Mrs. Wickham appears to be having another fit. What a healthy dose of irony…that you endured the behavior we suffered from you all these years, Sister.”
Caroline Bingley continued to breathe rapidly and shallowly as she took to the divan. Louisa noticed the signs of her sister’s distress, but did not shower her with sympathy. She had come to collect Caroline, and the arrival of the Colonel would make her task much simpler.
When Caroline still did not speak but continued her hyperventilating, Louisa finally gave in to ask Caroline whatever was the matter. Gasping between words, Caroline Bingley slowly began to explain.
“The Colonel…he informed…that is…he said…your brother and his wife!” Forcing the word ‘wife’ through clenched teeth, Caroline’s breathing suddenly became less ragged as rage replaced her shock.
“Come now, Caro, you did know that Mr. Darcy was no longer available to you. He eloped with Elizabeth Bennet. And I nearly forgot the reason that I came to call.” Louisa pulled a letter from her reticule. “It would appear that we are now the proud aunts of two brats instead of one. Jane was safely delivered of twins.”
“But if they are married then it was all for nothing!” Caroline did not signify that she understood Louisa’s announcement of her niece and nephew, and continued to talk only about Mr. Darcy.
Lowering her voice, Louisa leaned forward to try to get her sister to see reason and not start screaming herself. “Remember where you are. What was all for nothing? What did you do, Caroline?”
“Everything! I found the proof; I got rid of that man, I took care of that shrew…” Caroline catapulted from the divan and began pacing, waving her hands wildly as she motioned to the floor above her and continued her complaints against Georgiana Wickham.
But Louisa had heard the most damning statement that her sister had made. She didn’t know the particulars, but she remembered Caroline coming to her husband months earlier to ask for the means in which the Hurst family sought repayment of loans. She just never believed her sister could be so insane as to believe such a plan would bring Fitzwilliam Darcy into her arms.
“Shut your mouth!” Louisa Hurst stood from the chair that she had taken and marched forward to Caroline, who continued to rant and rave. Anger boiling up in the most peaceful Bingley sibling came to a head as Louisa’s hand reached back and swung forward with all her might to slap her sister. Caroline’s face turned quickly with the trajectory of the slap as she raised her hand to her stung cheek.
“You will not say another word!” Louisa’s warning came at just the right moment, as the parlor door opened and the Colonel stood looking rather upset. Louisa feared that he had heard what Caroline had said, but waited for the man to address them.
“I ask your pardon for my interruption.” He looked suspiciously at Caroline, as she rubbed her cheek, and to Louisa, expectantly.
“I just shared with Caroline the happy news. Mr. Bingley and dear, sweet Jane have been blessed with twins!” Louisa Hurst used her best sugarcoated voice and appeased the Colonel’s curiosity.
The man shrugged, as he still did not understand why Miss Bingley appeared as if she had just been slapped, but decided it was a family affair and he had enough family affairs of his own to handle.
“Yes, that is happy news. As I believe our families are now rather connected, I am happy to hear that my cousins are well.”
Louisa clasped Caroline’s arm and squeezed, in hopes that she would not say a word as the Colonel again referred to the marriage of Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet. But Caroline merely gave a small whimper.
“Colonel, I do hate to be forward, nor do I wish to insult your family, but I am afraid that my sister is feeling unwell. I believe taking on the care of Mrs. Wickham on her own was too much for her delicate constitution. I had been concerned for some days, you see, and came today to take her back to my home for a rest.”
The Colonel was not offended, and he more or less agreed with Mrs. Hurst that taking care of Georgiana Wickham was more than a trial and nothing but trouble.
“I have convinced Georgiana to come with me back to Rosings. And I wish to thank Miss Bingley for her care of my cousin. It is a kindness our family will never forget.” The Colonel looked at Miss Bingley expectantly; she looked at him with scorn in her expression.
“I should hope you will not forget. I spent every day and night with her since she came back from the Carmichaels’. No one else took care of her as I did!”
“Yes…” The Colonel said gently, looking again to Mrs. Hurst for support.
“You’ll have to excuse my sister; I believe she is very tired. Come, Caroline, the servants can bring your trunk over to the Hurst townhouse later today. Yes, Colonel?”
Richard Fitzwilliam nodded as he bowed to the two ladies leaving the room. He assured Mrs. Hurst that Caroline’s belongings would be returned to them that evening, as both he and Georgiana would be leaving at dawn for Kent.
“Thank you for coming so quickly. And safe travels to you both,” Louisa wished the Colonel well, and she practically shoved Caroline out the door and into the waiting Hurst carriage, that she had instructed to remain on the street no matter what.
Caroline slipped into a depressed mood, and halfway to the Hurst townhouse began to cry like a babe over her fruitless efforts. Once more, Louisa Hurst felt no sympathy for her youngest sister, and only wondered how severe the punishment was going to be when her husband learned that it was possible Caroline was a murderess.
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 . . .
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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.