YUM YUM Mr. Darcy IN A KILT!! 🙂 XOXOXO Elizabeth Ann West
Chapter 34 - The Trappings of Marriage, a Pride and Prejudice Variation
The discomfort of such a large house party manifested in honoring the traditions of the area for Mr. Darcy especially. The ancestral attire for Scotsmen, no longer prohibited by law, challenged the efficiency of Simmons’ usual care, and so it was Mrs. Darcy who invaded Mr. Darcy’s suite of rooms to invite him to a small making of mischief.
Fitzwilliam stood before the floor-length mirror and scowled at his bare calves, a stark paleness against the forest-green kilt that came just to his kneecaps. His wife blew out a low whistle as she took in the lovely sight of her husband’s backside, and tilted her head to one side to trace the solid outline of his taut calf muscles.
“I see now why Henry VIII wore ribbons on his legs. I believe we ladies are losing a sight of beauty for those trousers cover everything up.” Elizabeth slipped her arm through Fitzwilliam’s as he tugged on the shorter coat that necessity required while he wore the kilt. He had argued with Simmons over every detail down to the cloth-covered buttons. Even Elizabeth had overruled his objection to don the traditional attire of his ancestors. In his guilt to make Elizabeth’s first house party go off without so much as a hitch, Fitzwilliam acquiesced to wearing the drafty costume.
“Your delight shall be my comfort, madam. As we greet the distinguished guests you have beckoned upon our castle, I shall shun my discomfort and unease for your whim.” Fitzwilliam’s overly-officious voice made Elizabeth giggle, as she knew him to be teasing her. She did not doubt that he felt some level of discomfort in wearing clothing that was not his usual fare, but her gown as well suffered a heavy drape with a long plaid swath, a suggestion of Mrs. McSorley.
The guests of the house party would be a mixture of both traditionalists and proud Scotsmen. There was little doubt that an Englishman would support the Crown, but a small gesture to their Scottish heritage would go a long way in diffusing sources of conflict. They lived in a modern age where the bloodied hills of war lay over in the Continent or the Americas. It was a unique moment for English and Scots alike to find commonality over discord.
Elizabeth raised herself up on her tiptoes and tilted her chin just so. Fitzwilliam responded to her movements in the reflection by turning his face and granting his wife a chaste kiss upon her cheek. Elizabeth hummed contentedly at his affection and then explained to him her true aims.
“You may wonder why I have come to see you when you so often come to see me. But I have a small errand we must run, and for that you shall leave with me at once.” Elizabeth gently tugged on his arm but Fitzwilliam pulled it back, not relinquishing immediately to her request.
“Our house is full, madam; may I remind you of the people you invited? I have no plans to leave this room until it is the call for dinner in a half hour’s time or I should be forced to speak more than I have calculated.”
Elizabeth hollowly laughed at Fitzwilliam’s assessment, but then allowed her eyelids to droop in a heavy-lidded manner to speak barely above a whisper.
“I anticipated your objections and have planned around them, sir.”
Then she raised her voice once more. “Be brave, be bold, and follow your wife into the great unknown!”
Fitzwilliam raised an eyebrow as Simmons hurried to put the rest of Mr. Darcy’s things away in an attempt to disappear as quickly as he could. Elizabeth ignored her husband’s valet, as she had grown accustomed to his ways of blending into the background when he so chose.
“I am to trust you?” Fitzwilliam asked.
“Without hesitation,” Elizabeth answered.
When her husband sighed Elizabeth knew she had won the battle, and she tiptoed over to his door to creak it open and peer out into the hall. Spying the coast was clear, she waved her hands to beckon him to her side. Carefully, she opened the large oak door wider and began to escort her husband in the opposite direction of the grand staircase.
“You left the door open,” Fitzwilliam whispered.
Elizabeth looked over her shoulder to quickly explain, “Anyone on this hall will be listening for a door close as a signal to come out. Simmons will close it.”
She quickened her pace and Fitzwilliam followed, grimacing as he found the odd sensation of movement in his new attire to be more thrilling than a gentleman ought to find in mixed company. Elizabeth turned a discrete handle on a door that appeared to be a wall panel, opening a path to the servant stairs that would take them down through to the kitchen.
As the couple disappeared from the hall and used the worn, stone staircase, Elizabeth issued the same warning her maid had given to her. “Mind the steps; they’re uneven, and it’s easy to lose one’s balance.”
“I am not so awful a master to have dangerous stairs in my—” Mr. Darcy did not finish his thought as, just as Elizabeth had predicted, he nearly lost his balance on the sixth step down the stairs following his wife. As he looked down at his feet, he noticed a small chink in the stair had rubbed away, and his right foot had the unfortunate fate to rely on just that place in the stairs.
“Why, these are unacceptable!” Fitzwilliam suddenly turned around and began to slowly climb the stairs, distracted by the new problem of a portion of his house in desperate need of repair. But Elizabeth called to him from the bottom.
“You will not be able to replaster and fix that step tonight. If you do not hurry, my preparations will have been for naught!”
Darcy shrugged and took the rest of the ancient stairs with greater care before he joined his wife in the bustling kitchen. Only the younger staff snuck a glance at Mr. and Mrs. Darcy dashing through the rows, as they were politely chastised by the more experienced staff not to look. But for the young kitchen maids and hall boys, seeing the master or mistress in their full dinner party attire was something out of a fairytale, and so their curiosity could not be helped.
As she came to the door that Higgins described, Mrs. Darcy again carefully inspected the hall and then led her husband across it to his study. A swift inspection of the room demonstrated that all preparations had been made; she did her best to block the magnificent contraption with her body, as there was no proper way to cover it with a cloth while the steam moved through the chambers. Realizing she held precious few minutes before her surprise spoiled, Elizabeth spoke as fast as she might.
“You have graced me such a number of gifts that I can scarcely enumerate in this very moment without stumbling over my words, likely forget more than one thoughtful gesture. And so, I hope you will accept this gift as a token of my love, Fitzwilliam. It serves no purpose, I’m afraid, but I hope the joy and amusement it brings reminds you of the happiness you give to me.”
Fitzwilliam’s jaw dropped in abject shock as Elizabeth made a small sidestep, finally witnessing the whirling gears and movements of the silver and gold contraption behind her as the steam puffed out of the top. His face lit up like that of a young boy. Elizabeth had to cover her mouth lest she giggle and break the spell. Her husband walked carefully around the entire apparatus, looking at it and then up at her and then back at it.
“You selected this . . . for me?” he asked with sincere sentimentality.
Elizabeth nodded.
“I have seen the large clunky steam engines in factories, but this, this is elegant and a marvel!” Fitzwilliam could not help but reach forward to touch as Elizabeth shouted.
“No! You mustn’t!” And she dashed forward to catch his hand before he managed to scald himself. “The silversmith was quite clear. The pipes will burn you and the steam coming out of the spout is strong enough to make a nasty gash.”
Fitzwilliam’s eyes traveled to the innocent-looking whistling spout of steam and raised an eyebrow. Surely it could not be worse than a teakettle, and he inquired so much as Elizabeth again shook her head.
“I asked the very same. But from this chamber here,” Elizabeth carefully pointed without touching the large pot where a small fire boiled the water.
“The steam travels through here, and you will notice that the pipes become significantly thinner as the steam moves through the contraption. This is necessary to make the wheels move, and the gears turn, but it also creates an enormous amount of pressure.”
Fitzwilliam nodded, and beamed down at his wife. Elizabeth suddenly felt very self-conscious to be explaining the movements to her husband. Her cheeks burned red as she thought of the warning Mrs. McSorley had given her when she originally planned to present Fitzwilliam with his gift in front of other gentlemen. Mrs. McSorley had tactfully suggested it might be better to present such a gift privately and allow Mr. Darcy to display the model to their guests, as it was his gift.
“Do you like it?” Elizabeth asked as the steam whistle slowed down to merely a whisper and soon the gears began to slow. She suddenly began to feel that her gift provided very little purpose and paled in comparison to the elegant jewels and other trinkets Mr. Darcy had bestowed upon her.
Fitzwilliam scooped his wife into his arms and crushed her to his chest. “It has been years since anyone has given me a gift! How could I not adore anything you would give me, my Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth smiled as she looked up at him, but then wrinkled her nose which he promptly kissed.
“But aside from that, your gift is truly wonderful. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I shall proudly display it in each of our homes.”
Elizabeth sighed and turned her face to rest her cheek against her husband’s breastbone. The Darcys remained embraced while the steam contraption came to a complete stop. Her gift had served as a crude timepiece. Their time for private comfort in each other had come to a close as the gong sounded to signal dinner was ready. Fitzwilliam was the first to break their embrace and gallantly offer his arm to his wife.
“Shall we, Mrs. Darcy?”
Elizabeth accepted his arm and reminded him of his unpalatable future. “You will have to speak to the people seated next to you,Fitzwilliam.”
“I know, dearest. I merely hope that in your seating arrangements you were very kind.”
Darcy opened the door to the study, and the two walked out to join the rest of the couples congregating in the parlor as the procession of precedence into the dining room began.
Chapter 35 - The Trappings of Marriage, a Pride and Prejudice Variation
Crisp, morning dew dampened the skirts of Kitty Bennet as she waited nervously outside of the small chapel next to Netherfield Park. She stood with her two sisters, Mary and Lydia Bennet, shifting her weight from foot to foot as she craned her neck to watch for the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Bingley. When she had heard of the arrival of the Bennet carriage, Kitty hastened out of the main house to join her family at the chapel, but the conversation with her sisters had remained stilted. Her parents barely acknowledged her before walking inside, her father uncharacteristically relying on her mother for support. Kitty peppered Lydia with a whispered question.
“Does Papa’s hand shake so regularly?” Kitty’s anxiety covered not only her father’s health but also her upcoming role in the service. She was to stand up as a godparent for both babes, as her Aunt and Uncle Philips were to take the oath as godparents for little Lynn and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst for young Charlie. Netherfield Park stood nearly filled to the brim between the Bingleys, the Gardiners, the Phillipses, and the Hursts. The nursery now numbered seven children under the nurse’s care with four of them not yet breeched.
Lydia ignored Kitty’s question and spoke to Mary instead.
“I should hate when we have to go into that stuffy little chapel. It is much nicer out-of-doors.” Lydia looked up at the rising sun threatening to bake all of them in the last days of August. The smell of freshly scythed grass assaulted the girls’ senses and the symphony of morning bird calls quieted to a low, insect buzzing of a summer’s day.
“I cannot comprehend why our niece and nephew are not christened in Meryton like the rest of us. No one would think to look for their records here. Mr. Bingley is only leasing,” Mary griped.
Kitty stood up slightly straighter and bristled at the criticism of a man who had treated her no less than a full sister.
“There is a possibility that Mr. Bingley might purchase Netherfield Park. Besides, our family line has a connection by marriage to many of the houses in our surrounding county. No family can live two hundred years in a place without uniting amongst themselves,” Kitty snapped at Mary with annoyance, but then remembered her original aim. “Have you noticed Papa being ill? He practically leaned upon Mama to enter the chapel.”
Before Mary could answer, voices and movement attracted the attention of all three of the women waiting patiently for the procession into the chapel. The Bingleys, with Jane relying on the support of her husband, and followed by nurses carrying little Lynn and Charlie, began the short, dignified walk from the main entrance over to the east side where the chapel lay quaintly near the edge of a copse of trees. Kitty could not help herself from smiling at the joy of Jane’s triumph when her other two sisters continue to sour the day with their complaints.
“Finally they come! I doubt there was any real reason to keep us delayed out here.”
“It was Papa’s choice to have the carriage taken straight to the chapel. I am certain if you had come inside properly, we all might have waited more comfortably,” Kitty retorted, a smile still plastered on her face so Jane could not see her distress.
“Mr. Bingley is lucky that Papa even agreed to give his blessing, after the insults that Mr. Bingley has held against our father,” Mary countered.
“You know nothing of what you speak.” Kitty turned her face to scold her older sister. “Do the two of you not care that our family is fractured? Or have you both just enjoyed having our parents’ attentions all to yourself?”
Lydia dramatically touched her hand to her forehead as the christening party neared. “All this talk gives me such a headache. You can’t very well yell at us for breaking the family apart, when you refuse to live at home. Everyone else gets to stay at Netherfield Park, but we were not invited. I only wish the christening had been in Meryton as well. More interesting people might have attended,” Lydia finished.
Kitty pressed her lips into a thin line and thought bitterly about the painting upstairs that she hoped to present to her mother and father at the breakfast planned in honor of Jane and the twins. Her two sisters’ acrimony took her aback, but she didn’t want to have Jane hear them fighting and so she remained silent. She brightened when Mr. Bingley approached and greeted Kitty first before nodding to Mary and Lydia, a small lift of precedence over Mary that vindicated Kitty’s feelings of hurt.
Jane and Charles entered the chapel doors, and Kitty waited for the Hursts to follow and then her aunt and uncle. Kitty took her place, with Lydia and Mary following her for once. Her sisters would not stand for the ceremony christening the babes but unofficially asserted their rights by following after the official grandparents mostly through the procession until joining their parents to sit in the very first pew.
The vicar began reading from the Book of Common Prayer; the small congregation of family and upper staff of Netherfield Park affirmed their faith through the Trinity and professed as a congregation to protect and uphold young Lynn and Charles. Benediction was given unto the Lord for Jane’s safe delivery, and Kitty observed Jane’s face as the vicar blessed the Bingleys to have many more children. Although Jane’s expression remained serene Kitty could not help notice that her sister’s nostrils slightly flared at the prospect of more children so soon after the painful delivery of the twins, and it appeared Mr. Bingley had gripped Jane’s arm slightly tighter.
But to her great disappointment, Kitty’s parents remained cool as stone. Distracted by the slight drooping of her father’s left eyelid and corner of his lip, her artistic nature could not help but to study faces. She dwelled on the change in her father’s appearance and nearly missed her lines.
“Will you, by your prayers and witness, help this child to grow into the full stature of Christ?” the vicar asked. Kitty quickly remembered to chime in with the Hursts as little Charlie was baptized first.
“I will, with the help of God,” the trio of voices said. And Kitty listened more carefully so she would not miss her cue on little Lynn.
As they began to sing the final hymn to close the christening service, Kitty found herself silently praying for guidance on how to heal her fractured family and, to her surprise, suddenly felt a new resolve. Hesitation crept over her heart and whispered that today was not the right day to present her mother with her painting of the Bennet daughters. Her gift would be instrumental in serving her family’s reconciliation, but she felt it best to wait when individual hearts were not so pained by the division.
The only saving grace Kitty could spy was her mother so desperately wishing to faun over the babies but restricted herself to the care of her father. Mr. Bingley left Jane’s side to welcome Mr. and Mrs. Bennet personally.
Peacefully, they all walked back to Netherfield Park for the breakfast. Mary and Lydia walked together to the exclusion of Kitty, who found herself walking with the nurses and helping to steer the children back. In the back of her mind, she heard echoes of her friend’s prediction that she would end up an old maid, but still found such a future to mean more time for her art. This cheered Kitty as she took the hand of the smallest Gardiner cousin and enjoyed a lively skip down the gravel trail leading to the grand stairs of the manor house.
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 36 - The Trappings of Marriage, a Pride and Prejudice Variation
Yoohoo! Mrs. Darcy! That prospect over there looks practically heavenly!” Lady Margaret Douglas issued her opinion as the Carver staff put the finishing touches on laying out the afternoon picnic. “It would not be too much trouble to pack up and move over there, would it? The sun is beastly on this side of the hill.”
Elizabeth Darcy pressed her lips in a fine line and opened her mouth to speak when her husband usurped her.
“Sadly, Lady Margaret, I’m afraid there are an abundance of mole establishments on that side of the hill. Their holes will pose too great a threat to many an ankle.” Elizabeth gawked as her husband turned on his charm. “I sincerely hope you can excuse my ground staff for their shortcomings in clearing all of my hills.”
Lady Margaret blushed and Elizabeth struggled to not roll her eyes. Patting her husband gently on his arm as a sign of gratitude, she chose to see the benefit of avoiding one of Lady Margaret’s many veiled criticisms.
The weather had held back any bluster and the twenty couples enjoyed a spread of all Carver estate had to offer. From braised lamb to a fine stout ale, after partaking in the meal games of bowls and pall mall were swiftly set up.
“Care a spot of wager there, Darcy?” Lord Randolph tipped his hat as the two Darcys languished over their meal with the Ogilvy-Grants.
“I’m terribly sorry, Lord Randolph, but we’ve just resolved to taking a lovely stroll down the path along the forest’s edge. Would you care to join us?” Mrs. Darcy smiled sweetly at his lordship, paying her husband back for his earlier kindness.
“Indeed,” Mr. Grant replied, taking Mrs. Darcy up on her ploy. He gallantly offered his arm for assistance to his hostess. “Say you’ll join us, Randolph, and we can discuss that lovely grove of willow atStanhope.”
“Trees are for the birds, Grant,” Lord Randolph returned Francis Grant’s informality as Mr. Darcy rose to assist Mrs. Mary-Anne Grant. He gave a nod to Lord Randolph as he fell into lockstep behind his wife and her escort.
The promenading couples passed down the middle between the two games, and Lord Randolph slinked back to hit up another for a coin wager. As they reached the edge where they might circumnavigate the hill, Francis Grant took the opportunity to thank his hostess.
“You must be very generous of spirit, Mrs. Darcy, if you do not mind me saying so, to share your lovely home so soon after your wedding.”
“Oh, Mr. Darcy and I have had a rather unorthodoxically long courtship. I believe I feel less like a blushing bride than I ought,” Elizabeth replied.
“We know all about unorthodox beginnings.” Francis Grant hinted at the odd situation he and his wife lived, caretakers of the great Cullen Castle; not officially the holders of the title as his brother still breathed, but lived a half-life of madness.
“Forgive me, I did not mean to dredge up any unpleasantries.”
Francis Grant laughed, looking over his shoulder to see his wife and Mr. Darcy engaged in a pleasant conversation. That is, his wife talking animatedly and his friend, Mr. Darcy, nodding appropriately.
“My brother is as well as he has ever been, Mrs. Darcy. And I again thank you for the lovely respite. The year has been very difficult for Mrs. Grant.”
“Yes, we’ve found a kinship there I’m afraid. And, like you, our dearest cousin, Richard, recently sold his commission for family matters. Service to the King exceeds the battlefield, I say. A great landlord feeds many a soldier.”
Francis Grant tilted his head, in awe of Mrs. Darcy’s good sense. “Tell me, Mrs. Darcy, are you always so reliable for good cheer?”
Elizabeth blushed and looked to her husband, who had steered Mrs. Grant into a quicker pace that they had neared his wife and her escort enough to overhear the conversation.
“My wife is a commensurate philosopher and conversationalist. She oft reminds me to think of the past only when its remembrance brings me joy.” Fitzwilliam locked eyes with his wife and smirked to find her gasp for breath. But Elizabeth’s shock did not last long before she was saved by none other than Mary-Anne.
“Gentlemen, while a young bride appreciates a compliment now and again, let’s not pester the poor girl.” She gave a conspiratorial wink as she reached for Elizabeth’s hand to lead her away from the men entirely. “Let’s plan your visit to Cullen Castle. You simply must say you’ll visit, as I cannot give up a friend so divine.”
The two ladies walked off back in the direction they had all come as shouts and laughter came from both sets of games. Elizabeth whispered her thanks to Mary-Anne as she turned to give a loving glance to her husband, before taking her new friend’s arm in earnest.
“Have we been rejected, Darcy?”
“I believe so. But at least to this is our gain.”
“Oh? How so?”
Darcy peered at his friend with a face of pure indifference before landing his quip. “Our wives’ figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking.”
Francis Grant laughed heartily at Fitzwilliam’s prurient observation, but could not disagree. They followed the ladies back to the party proper, falling easily into a discussion about estate management.
The happy picnic continued much longer than intended, and only the arrival of dark clouds ushered in any urgency of ending. The blankets and baskets were packed and on the wagon as the score of couples created an informal parade back to the house in their now-sullied day suits and gowns. Elizabeth walked arm in arm with not only Mrs. Mary-Anne Ogilvy-Grant, but also the boisterous and bonnie Lady Agnew. Lady Margaret sulked, as her husband paid hardly any attention to her criticisms of the afternoon as she had lost at pall mall and disastrously bowled when she changed games in a huff.
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.
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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.