So my sister-in-law had her baby and so right after this book released, I was on baby watch and then had my little nieces! Everyone is safe and sound… I just lost time getting chapters posted. The book is already out and I hope everyone enjoys!
XOXOX, Elizabeth Ann West
Chapter 12 - The Miracles of Marriage, Book 5 of The Moralities of Marriage
The next morning, Simmons woke his employer just as the sun was rising. While Mr. Darcy was never a man to sleep a good portion of the day away, unless he had allowed his drink to run away from his regulation the night before, he gladly accepted assistance in his dress more so than usual. He didn’t feel fully awake until the splash of water from the basin shocked his senses with the cold.
“Wise, Simmons,” Mr. Darcy understood his valet’s aims. He hadn’t needed such tactics since the winter when he thought Elizabeth was marrying another.
Choosing to wear one of his finest suits, Mr. Darcy skipped breaking his fast to leave with his man before much of Mayfair stirred. Word arrived just before daybreak that Mrs. Potter’s keen senses of observation had proven fruitful. The soldiers apprehended the loiter and kept him in custody. But there was a complication due to the identity of the man’s employer
“You’re sure they said they will hold him?” Mr. Darcy asked Simmons as his fastest and lightest carriage had been rigged for the morning’s errand. Simmons reassured Mr. Darcy.
“He did not take very many hours to break, either. So there is always the chance the man is not telling the truth.” Simmons was never fond of using tactics of torture to urge a confession.
Mr. Darcy’s valet, and Colonel Fitzwilliam’s former batman, had spent much of the night ferrying back and forth between the garrison holding the prisoner four blocks away and the town home on Mr. Darcy’s orders. With his family’s reputation and financial security on the line, Fitzwilliam Darcy could leave nothing to chance. He trusted Simmons. And he felt grateful to the man who could go places and witness things that a fine gentleman like Mr. Darcy had no business attending. In exchange, Simmons’ family of his mother and younger siblings wanted for nothing in their tenant home on the Matlock estate where Simmons grew up.
“Tell me all that you know, again, if you will.” Mr. Darcy closed his eyes, not to go back to sleep, but to think clearly. Simmons began:
“The man claims to be in the employ of Lord Strange. He was to watch the movements of the household and had been doing so for many months. Originally he followed George Wickham, but after that man died,”
“Was murdered,” Darcy corrected, and Simmons nodded.
“Yes, after the murder of George Wickham, he claims that no one told him to do otherwise. He was assigned to watch the town home and nothing else.”
“Did he say who he reports to?” Mr. Darcy asked and Simmons shook his head.
“He took his beatings, and then I believe he realized the game was up. I would hazard to guess he realized any more information, his life will be forfeited,” Simmons paused and his employer finished his thought.
“But he would be open to financial persuasion,” Mr. Darcy said not as a question, but as a declaration.
Simmons did not need to respond as the carriage came to a halt. Mr. Darcy did not await ceremony before opening the door and exiting the vehicle while Simmons hurried behind him. Despite Mr. Darcy’s long stride, the shorter man with years of experience in both the army and service, found a way to outstrip Mr. Darcy and reach Lieutenant Cross first.
“Lieutenant,” Mr. Darcy greeted the man who scarcely looked old enough to hold a pint, let alone hold a commission. But the many wars had drawn boys as young as fourteen and fifteen into the landed ranks when they most often had still been in school.
“Mr. Darcy, sir? I was instructed to wait for you. This way,” Lieutenant Cross led Mr. Darcy and his man Simmons through the rectangular maze. They passed cells of commonly drunk soldiers and a few other men isolated for whatever crime they had been accused. To Darcy’s surprise, they turned a corner and his uncle was there.
“Darcy!” the Earl of Matlock greeted his nephew while Fitzwilliam stared utterly bewildered.
“How did you know–”
The Earl of Matlock clapped his nephew on the shoulder and interrupted the odd greeting. The officer in charge sitting at the crude table poised over a logbook with a quill pen dripping ink, raised an eyebrow.
“I was just having a conversation here, with the most courageous and brave Lieutenant Colonel, how there was no need to formally document our presence this morning. We just have a few questions, after all,” the earl winked at the surly man, rather round in filling out his robin’s breast colored uniform. He was not dashing like the other officers who moved up the ranks, and it was no wonder that he had been sat at post in the far corner of a derelict prison in the heart of London.
The earl and Mr. Darcy followed Lieutenant Cross further down the hall while Simmons stayed a good few paces behind. When at last they were brought into the room with the prisoner, the extent of the man’s injuries were quite visible as the sun’s rays pierced between the bars over his head.
“Gracious me!” The earl exclaimed, covering his mouth with a handkerchief for the stench. Darcy raised an eyebrow at his uncle rather amused at his weak stomach. He reasoned the earl might have a stronger constitution if he had followed his son, Richard, to all of the seedy places Fitzwilliam had visited over the years.
Mr. Darcy took a few paces toward the man that had been ordered to watch his home, then crouched down where the man lay in a heap on the floor.
“Are you conscious?” he asked. The man moaned quietly. Fitzwilliam continued. “My name is Fitzwilliam Darcy. It is my home you are ordered to watch. I have no interest in seeing you pay for the crimes of another. If you can give me information on your employer, I shall make sure that you disappear and never have need to call on such work to make a living again. Do you understand?”
The injured man moaned again and Darcy stood up, utterly exasperated. Why had the soldiers beaten him to such an injured state? And then it dawned on him. It was no accident this man getting caught. This was a setup.
The Earl of Matlock talked excitedly with Lieutenant Cross, asking for much of the information that Darcy received from Simmons. Ftizwilliam had to think fast. He motioned for Simmons to come into the cell and whispered quietly to his valet. Simmons nodded, as he followed Mr. Darcy’s logic. He dashed out of the cell and down the hall. Lieutenant Cross almost started after the valet, but then remembered the other men in the cell. His hesitation was all Mr. Darcy needed to see for confirmation.
“Where the devil is he going?” The earl asked as Mr. Darcy announced he was finished and wished to leave.
“We need information, Darcy. Lieutenant Cross here was just telling me that they would be ever so willing for us to take custody of this lowlife.”
“That’s not possible, my Lord. Come, we must leave. At once.” Mr. Darcy turned to leave but Lieutenant Cross blocked his escape.
“Mr. Darcy, I was to understand that, that is,” the Lieutenant stumbled on his words as Mr. Darcy moved closer to the young whelp of an officer and gazed down at him.
“Let me make a few hypothetical statements. Someone might have been given instructions to abuse this man within an inch of his life. And also instructed if my uncle or I appeared, suggest that if we paid a pretty coin, the prisoner was ours?” Mr. Darcy asked and his uncle let out an exasperated sigh.
“Well of course, Nephew. That is how it is done.” The Earl of Matlock spoke harshly and softly as he neared his kin but Mr. Darcy did not break his gaze with Lieutenant Cross.
“I thank you for your time, Lieutenant. But my uncle and I will be leaving now, unless you would like a lot more trouble than necessary. I appreciate a soldier taking his orders, but do not make the mistake of inventing orders yourself and holding a member of Parliament, and a well respected gentlemen of this country, in this prison,” Mr. Darcy explained in such a venomous tone, his uncle became very nervous. Thankfully, the Earl of Matlock kept his mouth shut and just as quickly as they had entered the garrison, Darcy escorted his uncle to his waiting carriage. Inside, Simmons was already seated.
The door was slammed shut and they were halfway back to Darcy House before Fitzwilliam would answer any of his uncle’s questions about what on earth had just occurred. Then he gave his uncle a further slight of disrespect by addressing Simmons first.
“Is it done?” Fitzwilliam asked and Simmons nodded.
“Done! What’s done? Nothing is done! We had the proof in our hands that Lord Strange was behind all of this, and you let him go!” The bombastic Earl of Matlock continued to vent his spleen while his nephew sat silent upon the bench across from him. When at last the earl had ran out of breath and they had arrived at the Matlock town home, Mr. Darcy finally explained.
“Is of the utmost importance that you do nothing until I come tonight for dinner. Promise me you will not seek out any contact or more information?” Mr. Darcy asked earnestly and the earl began to nod, but then shook his head.
“Not until you explain to me why on earth we left that garrison!”
Darcy closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was no wonder his family was such a mess of inquiry and scandals. The men of his uncle’s generation were so accustomed to universal deference and plain appearances, that they could not fathom an opponent two or three steps ahead of them.
“I had Simmons write our names to the logbook,” Mr. Darcy said and his uncle held his breath until his face turned violently red with rage.
“Are you daft?” The Earl yelled, and the carriage lurched a bit as yelling from inside must have startled the driver and the horses had readjusted their position.
“No,” Mr. Darcy said coolly. “I refuse to be set up. You should thank me. Did it not occur to you the man who had George Wickham murdered would love nothing more then to make you or me responsible for the act? All they need is a link between us and that ledger. Because there is none, they will manufacture it. So they left that man watching my home, with who knows what things he has signed his name to that is in Lord Strange’s position. Then we go to the garrison, giving our names, but not signing the visitor log, and bribing him out–”
“We could have been ruined,” the Earl said quietly as his nephew’s words sunk in.
“That is why I am asking you to do nothing today. Meet no one, aside from remaining with a staff member at all times so that you have an alibi,” Mr. Darcy said and finally his uncle began to nod.
“But if you do not want us blamed, why did you have our names written in the bloody book?”
Fitzwilliam grinned. “The truth is the truth, and it will out. If this goes to a legal body, I had every right to question a man apprehended on my request. The prisoner did not disappear, and perhaps, God have mercy on his soul, Lord Strange will still snuff him out. But he would have to count on both soldiers to keep the secret, and we already know Lieutenant Cross holds some scruples.”
The earl sighed as it was still very early in the morning for so many crosses, double crosses, and Lieutenant Crosses. But he suddenly felt very unneeded.
“And what will you do?” The earl asked as Fitzwilliam allowed the door to be opened for his uncle to be helped out of his carriage.
“I need to meet with some friends of my father. It’s time I took advantage of the Darcy connections. Tell Aunt I will be at dinner.”
And with that, the Earl of Matlock was dropped off at his town home, and Fitzwilliam was whisked away back to his own.
Henry Fitzwilliam’s steps faltered for a moment as the true weight of what happened, and what so nearly had happened, fully registered in his mind. He accepted a footman’s assistance up the steps into his home, and then walked to his study. It didn’t matter that it was not even 8 o’clock in the morning, the Earl of Matlock poured himself a stiff drink and sat before the fire.
Then he stood up and fetched a pen and parchment. His mind raced and he scratched names and dates of anything to do with Northumberland and his deal for the loan. Based on what his nephew caught just at the right moment, Henry Fitzwilliam believed he had been an unwilling participant to the Duke of Northumberland’s most dangerous game for a long while. And he wanted out before it was too late.
The Miracles of Marriage
a Pride and Prejudice variation novel
Release Date: July 25, 2019
Pages: 306
Book 5 in the Moralities of Marriage Series. Chapters posting now on Elizabeth’s site.
After the murder of George Wickham in the streets of London and the fire at Longbourn, Mr. Darcy and his lovely bride, Elizabeth Bennet, must cut their wedding trip to Scotland short. With the financial stakes of all families hanging in the balance of London’s politics, the Darcys will have to work together to see to everyone’s needs. But with so much tragedy and scandal, can Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam rely on each other, or has the trust between our dear couple worn to edges beyond repair?
Chapter 13 - The Miracles of Marriage, Book 5 of The Moralities of Marriage
The Dowager Cottage of Rosings had sat neglected for over thirty years before Anne and Richard Fitzwilliam made it their sanctuary. Their routine had become a very simple living for a married couple in the country. Having given up his commission in the cavalry, Richard Fitzwilliam spent a great deal of his free time riding his horse through the grounds of Rosings. When the familiar parks and runs no longer challenged him, he ventured further into the surrounding countryside. Where he had once been at odds with his aunt and overseeing the accounts and ledgers of the main house, their retreat to the Dowager Cottage had taken the former soldier away from the battle.
The peace and quiet was nice for two months, a healthy respite. But the last action one of His Majesty’s Finest had seen was fetching a wretched, confused, and spoiled young woman from London and that hardly boasted any danger at all. On days they were plagued by rain, Richard stalked the floors of the cottage, desperately trying to contain his sour mood. Born the second son of an earl, in his adulthood there had not been much time for leisure; Richard had had to earn his keep. And now that he was to play the country gentleman but with nothing to manage, apart from the love of his wife, Richard desperately missed his commission.
Anne’s preferred pastime was reading, though it had been over a month since she had procured anything new. Most of her life, since her early teen years when her father perished and she suffered a horrific bout of pneumonia that permanently weakened her lungs, Anne’s mother had confined her to a bedroom for rest. Anne had not attended any balls, or seen any shows at the theater. In fact, she had never truly left the Rosings estate in over a decade.
And therefore, tea in the small home had lately grown into a tense affair with two attendees wondering if this was all a married life would offer. Theirs had been a love match after many years courting through letters and sparse visits by Richard whenever he could manage to attend with his cousin, Fitzwilliam Darcy. But now that their battles with time, distance, and parental approval to wed were over, the Fitzwilliams found themselves in discomfort with the settling part of settling down.
“I went to see Mrs. Collins before they departed,” Anne announced, and she saw her husband scowl. But Richard was wise enough to not voice his displeasure that Anne had gone to the Parson’s cottage without him. “Declan was there, I was perfectly safe. And now they are both gone to Hertfordshire.”
Richard tilted his head to one side. “Why have they left?”
Anne shrugged. “It appears Mother learned Longbourn is not to be rebuilt.”
Richard’s jaw slacked in understanding. His last letter from their cousin Darcy had outlined that the Bennet home had burned, Mr. Bennet was grievously injured, and the Bingleys were about to lose their home due to the lease expiring.
“Can you imagine Pembereley? The house sits practically vacant for years and now it will house three families!” Richard found humor in his cousin’s lamentable position of host.
Anne had been but twelve the last time she had visited the estate in Derbyshire with Mother, as they rarely traveled up north. She had never wondered why before, but now that she knew the truth of George Wickham’s parentage, she couldn’t blame her mother for never wishing to go and risk seeing her father’s bastard. Still, the idea of so much family and people to sit with in pleasant company was a yearning she felt keenly.
“I imagine it will be a welcome party for Elizabeth; how nice to still be close to your sisters even after marriage,” Anne said, wistfully.
Richard changed the subject to some fencing he noticed in disrepair on his morning ride, and Anne interrupted.
“Oh, please do not see the steward. You know how Mother gets when she thinks we have meddled in her affairs,” Anne begged, but Richard snorted in disagreement.
“Let her be angry. If our son is to inherit this estate, I shouldn’t want him to be in the same situation as Mr. Collins!” Richard’s tone was slightly harsher than he intended, a default to barking orders at his inferiors. When Anne did not respond, he realized he had hurt her feelings and promptly apologized.
“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to let my temper show.”
“No, no, it is quite alright,” Anne dismissed her husband’s apology. “I was stunned because you are absolutely correct. I am the first in line for this estate, not Georgiana. And yet she sits by mother’s side, probably planning new furnishings for the first floor parlor and future improvements to the outbuildings past the south pasture,” Anne continued enumerating many parts of the estate, some in need of desperate attention and repair, some less so.
Amused, Richard drank his tea and listened intently to his wife’s pique, so long as it was directed at someone else.
“And what have I done? I let that girl chase me off, make me uncomfortable in my own home. The home of my childhood!”
“Err, we did move to this cottage before Georgiana arrived,” Richard carefully pointed out, but his wife was unmoved.
“And we stopped going to dinner after. And why should we spend our accounts when Mother puts out a spread to feed ten men easily, every night?”
Richard furrowed his brow as he had been in support of his wife’s anger, even finding it righteous. But now it sounded like she was about to say they would start dining with her mother at Rosings, and Richard did not care to harm his peace of mind for a portion of game pie.
“Dearest, what are you proposing?” he asked, hesitantly.
“That we take back our surrender!”
Richard cringed. This was worse than he thought. “You are not saying you wish to move back into Rosings . . . ” he trailed off, and Anne laughed as she shook her head.
“No, that would be folly. But we are going to dinner! I shall send a note over,” Anne said and stood, leaving Richard dumbfounded. He was so relieved when she said they were not moving back, he had forgotten to lodge a complaint against the plans for dinner.
Still, it was only one night, perhaps a few, and he was reasonably confident his wife would tire of the insults. His mother had been right, that when women are with children, there is no other job of the father-to-be but to make his wife happy. And so Richard would even shave for his mother-in-law’s company, and leave the cigars at home. But he would eat more than his portion of the tasty game pie when offered.
The Miracles of Marriage
a Pride and Prejudice variation novel
Release Date: July 25, 2019
Pages: 306
Book 5 in the Moralities of Marriage Series. Chapters posting now on Elizabeth’s site.
After the murder of George Wickham in the streets of London and the fire at Longbourn, Mr. Darcy and his lovely bride, Elizabeth Bennet, must cut their wedding trip to Scotland short. With the financial stakes of all families hanging in the balance of London’s politics, the Darcys will have to work together to see to everyone’s needs. But with so much tragedy and scandal, can Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam rely on each other, or has the trust between our dear couple worn to edges beyond repair?
Chapter 14 - The Miracles of Marriage, Book 5 of The Moralities of Marriage
An unnerving sense a futility affected Fitzwilliam Darcy’s senses as his carriage dropped him at the Matlock town home. Only nine months earlier, he was there trying to arrange a marriage between his sister and that villain, George Wickham. A crisis that had first separated him from his beloved Elizabeth. And here he was, once again separated from Elizabeth, to fix another crisis, largely due to his sister’s choice of paramour. Even in death, George Wickham was a thorn in Fitzwilliam’s side.
Despite his foul mood, he graciously accepted the well wishes on his marriage from the butler, and handed over his hat and gloves upon entering the foyer. His aunt and uncle always presented a nice spread, and so he held no anxieties about enjoying a fine meal. But he predicted the night would be very long, as there was much for him to discuss and plan.
“Fitzwilliam! Always my punctual nephew,” Margaret Fitzwilliam, Countess of Matlock, warmly greeted the young man that became her kin by marriage. Her husband was brother to Darcy’s late mother, Anne Darcy.
“Aunt Maggie,” Darcy embraced his aunt and he chuckled to see such an unbridled happiness in her face. He’d forgotten that she was one of the few allies he possessed in his nuptials to Elizabeth. The two had met under less than ideal conditions, shortly after Elizabeth had been gravely injured in Kent by her cousin, Mr. Collins.
Such a reminder prompted him to retrieve the letter for his aunt from his wife, and place it in her hand. Lady Matlock seemed amused that her new niece would use such a direct means of delivery when such resources were at her disposal. Another young woman of the Ton would be eager to demonstrate her power and position as the new Mrs. Darcy, but not the former Elizabeth Bennet.
“Have you placed your wife on such a strict allowance, Fitzwilliam, that she is unable to send post?” Lady Matlock made the jest, and Mr. Darcy laughed.
“Nay, I believe my wife is of such a sound and logical cut, that she holds no qualms in demoting me to her postmaster!” The oft-shy in strange company Fitzwilliam Darcy made a rare joke at his own expense with one of his favorite relatives.
Lady Matlock opened the letter and read the lines penned inside. She had tried to keep a straight face, like one would in a game of cards, but it turned out the new Mrs. Darcy was also quite skilled in her writing, and her comical request that the Matlocks keep Mr. Darcy out of trouble made the Countess chuckle in an outburst before she coughed and made a poor attempt to conceal the humor.
“Aunt Maggie?” Mr. Darcy craned his neck to read the letter, and Lady Matlock found another admirable quality of Elizabeth Darcy: she did not permit her husband to read all of her letters before sending them.
“It would appear your lovely wife and I are of the same mind. Prior to your arrival, you’ll forgive that your uncle did discuss the events of the morning with me,” Lady Matlock paused while her nephew nodded as the two of them began to walk towards the salon, “I was having my trunks prepared.”
A footman slid open the doors where Lord Matlock nursed a drink, and the atmosphere turned from jubilant to dejected almost as soon as they cross the threshold.
Fitzwilliam did not wait for an invitation and walked over to the sideboard to help himself, just as James and Richard Fitzwilliam would in their parents home.
“I thought you would wish to stay in London?” Darcy presumed, before enjoying his drink.
“Mmm, yes, I should love nothing more than to attend teas and dinners where the ladies whisper conjecture about my family for another six months.” Lady Matlock’s sarcasm earned a look of empathy from her nephew. “No, as I was talking with your uncle, there is really little for me to do here. And without my presence, no one would think anything amiss if your uncle is not entertaining and living the life of the enthusiastic earl,” Lady Matlock explained and Fitzwilliam looked at his unhappy uncle sinking even lower in the armchair.
“The Crown has recalled Parliament,” he said, swirling his drink and then knocking the rest of it back. “We are to open in November.”
The news of Parliament reopening was crushing. All afternoon, Mr. Darcy had renewed his contacts with men his father had wisely introduced him to in his early twenties, before the elder Darcy succumbed to his illness. Most of them had agreed to take a meeting with Darcy, but almost all insisted on a neutral territory such as White’s or Watier’s. With Parliament reopening, there was no question the wheels were in motion to insist on a formal investigation into the mining scandal.
But still, this did not answer about his aunt. If she were to run back to Matlock, it could be just as disastrous as staying in London for it would appear out of the ordinary. Lady Matlock had never routinely stayed in the countryside while her husband was seeing to his politics. She had been a pillar of the “little season’s” social set for two decades; her absence would not go unnoticed.
“Where shall you go, Aunt Maggie?”
Lady Matlock dearly loved her nephew, and found him to be one of the most intelligent men of her acquaintance. But sometimes, Fitzwilliam just did not understand a woman’s world, and how should he? It was not a place he routinely traveled in.
“Why Pemberley, of course. I had already resolved to invite myself, and then your clever wife gave me one with a stroke of her pen.” Lady Matlock beamed at her nephew, full of approval in his choice of a partner for life.
Mr. Darcy was speechless. Laid out so logically before him, he could not argue such an arrangement was not both brilliant, and necessary. No one would question Lady Matlock offering household management support to a newly married woman in her family. The more Darcy involved himself with the investigation with his uncle, the more he realized it unlikely he could return to his wife’s side as soon as he had hoped.
Without a doubt, Darcy believed his wife more than capable of settling her family into their Derbyshire estate. He just disliked she would have to do it alone. But now, his aunt, who was at least familiar with Pemberley and greatly experienced in running a grand estate, would be there to support Elizabeth in all that she endeavored to do.
Fitzwilliam Darcy raised his glass in his aunt’s direction, to make a small toast. “To you, Aunt Maggie, for always helping others even when they were not aware they so desperately needed it,” Darcy said and then sipped a healthy mouthful.
Due to the stress of the situation, or perhaps the months of unending chaos in their family, Lady Matlock approached her nephew, and offered him the affection of her hand upon his shoulder.
“You’re welcome,” she said, and then bid adieu to gentlemen as she had many preparations to make in order to leave in the morning.
Without his aunt in the room, Darcy began to inventory the rest of the familiar space while he finished his drink. His uncle said little, and Darcy was unsure of how to begin. To his relief, his uncle started by handing his nephew a piece of parchment.
“I detailed the sequence of events and conversations I had with the duke,” he explained and Mr. Darcy was thoroughly impressed by the pages of notes and diagrams.
As he studied the way in which the Matlocks were twisted up into the financial dealings of Northumberland, Darcy began to reflect that he had been wrong about where his cousin Richard received all of his strategic thinking. Henry Fitzwilliam had been raised to perform as an amiable member of the peerage, respectable to those beneath him, non-threatening to those above. But the man also possessed a keen mind for puzzles, as evidenced by the lines before him.
“I was a fool! A blasted fool! I should have wondered why in the very moment of my misfortune, there was Northumberland, ready for such a generous rescue,” the earl spat, yelling at himself, not Mr. Darcy.
“Oh, give yourself more credit than that, sir,” Darcy replied, as he flipped between the pages. Conspicuously absent in the list of names his uncle had penned about the wedding between James and the duke’s shelved daughter was Northumberland’s heir, Baron Percy.
“Percy was not at his sister’s wedding?” Mr. Darcy asked, confirming the lack of his listing was not merely an oversight.
Henry Fitzwilliam shook his head.
“No, he was stuck in London, the excuse given of his acceleration,” the earl offered, repeating the same line he had swallowed.
“How very interesting. Very interesting, indeed,” Mr. Darcy said, staring off into the empty space before him.
“Nephew, my day has been long and my comforts short. My wife leaves me for yours, and I am hungry. I followed your advice and now seek satisfaction. What have you learned?” The Earl of Matlock reminded Mr. Darcy that while he afforded his younger relation respect, it only carried so far. He was not a man accustomed to waiting for anything.
Darcy grimaced. “Not much, I am afraid. Your notes here though are very helpful. I have a few interviews with a few of my father’s friends,”
“Those questioning sort from the Royal Society?”
Darcy nonchalantly nodded his head. “A few, but more importantly, I’ve heard from a close friend of the Prince Regent.”
“Not those dandies!” The earl mocked the popular name for the men who frequented Watier’s, caring more about their dress, than their substance. “How did you manage that?” his uncle asked, genuinely curious as they were notoriously snobbish and kept their circle tight based on the strangest of ideals, none of which included money, but taste. The earl would never have classified his conservatively dressed nephew to be accepted into their lot.
“Ah, a new friend taught me there is a supply of goods, particularly fabrics, that are exclusively available if you know the right importer,” Mr. Darcy hinted at Elizabeth’s relations in trade, and Henry Fitzwilliam waved him off.
“We need my son. Sons. Both of them! I do not like this business of nearly being framed for murder.”
Darcy nodded. Their family had splintered and become vulnerable.
“I shall write a letter to Richard and demand he come to London,” Henry Fitzwilliam said, feeling the matter settled, but Darcy knew better. His last letter from Richard held undertones of a great military leader no longer interested in playing out the whims and fancies of men he did not consider to be his superior.
“I agree we need Richard, but let me travel to Kent and persuade him in person. You need to go to Syon House and fetch James, and his new wife, I suppose.” Darcy suddenly realized it was unlucky there was so much need and not enough men. He would never change Lady Matlock’s plans to help Elizabeth, but it would have been nice to have her home and attract Lady Brahmington under the guise of learning her role as the future countess of Matlock.
“What if they stay in Northumberland?” his uncle countered, and Darcy shrugged.
“Then find a way, I suppose. But at the very least, meet with the Duke and play ignorant. Act as though nothing is amiss and let him believe our behavior this morning at the gaol was out of good breeding than distrust.”
The earl reluctantly agreed and then demanded that they continue discussing things over dinner.
The meal had grown tense in parts, especially as they argued whether they believed Northumberland, Derby, and Strange had concocted all of this intrigue together, or had the crafty duke taken advantage when he had seen an opening.
The earl suspected a grand conspiracy, while Darcy thought that perhaps the scandal was more a case of Sun Tzu’s philosophy. He tried to explain to his uncle the finer points of how two adversaries could become allies against a shared threat, resisting the temptation to apply it to their own circumstances. But both men grew frustrated by too much real danger in their plans and lack of hypothetical that made such philosophical discussions safe to conduct.
In the end, Mr. Darcy made sure to make his uncle feel as though he held the most important role to play in uncovering more evidence, and that he would play little more than an errand boy, fetching Richard from Kent. When the earl offered to write a letter on his behalf to his sister, Catherine, to arrange his visit, Mr. Darcy declined.
“When has she ever offered us the courtesy of advance notice?” he asked and his uncle considered the question.
“Why, never, now that I think on it.”
“Then perhaps it’s time we give her the same courtesy.”
Chapter 15 - The Miracles of Marriage, Book 5 of The Moralities of Marriage
The sunniest parlor at Netherfield Park was full of mirth and good company. What was to be one of the last afternoons in Hertfordshire for the Bennets and Bingleys also served as a parting farewell to little Lynn’s namesake. Jane and Elizabeth had dressed smartly in complementary cut gowns of pale blue silk for Jane, and a hunter green for Elizabeth. Their Aunt Phillips, who had come to visit, wore a respectable frock with pink flowers in poplin. Her husband did well as the county solicitor all turned to for their legal needs. But Lynn Phillips was long past wearing silks except for the rare times she visited London with her husband and they took in the theater.
“I see that my sister has continued her protest. I did wonder if she would put aside her silly notions of blame and come spend one last afternoon with me,” Aunt Phillips sniffed as Jane and Elizabeth looked at one another with equal expressions of relief. To Elizabeth, although she had always known her mother to be the sister of Aunt Phillips, she had not thought about their adult relationship as sisters in comparison to her own with Jane until that very moment. Suddenly, Elizabeth felt empathy with her Aunt Phillips over her mother’s behavior, but she distracted herself by spreading another teaspoon of orange marmalade on her biscuit.
“Oh I’m sure Mama did not mean to insult,” Jane began to explain. “It is only that the younger girls needed additions to their wardrobes before we leave for such travel. Mama took Mary, Kitty, and Lydia to Meryton for what could be made and delivered before the end of the week.” Jane’s voice sounded hollow in her explanation, as the words emphasized what Lynn Phillips had said all along. There were precious few days left before the wagons and carriages would depart Netherfield Park. After six generations at Longbourn, the Bennets would be gone.
“What if you came along?” Elizabeth asked, brightly. She looked to her sister Jane for swift agreement, and her eldest sister nodded earnestly. “Help Mama settle in and come see Pemberley! Then perhaps Uncle Phillips could join us at Christmastime,” Elizabeth ended wistfully, realizing that she was asking her aunt and uncle to separate much like she and her own husband were experiencing. Still, Elizabeth did know that married couples routinely spent time apart once they had been married for some years. She could not recall a time when her Aunt Phillips was not married since she had been the eldest of the Gardiner children. She thought that Aunt Phillips had married first, but she was not certain.
Lynn Phillips politely declined, pouring herself another cup of tea. “I’m afraid my husband cannot spare me as the last quarter of the year is busiest. Rents to collect, properties to lease. And it always seems that people wish to place their affairs in order before the winter months. I suppose the fear of illness brings such an anxiety, but your uncle always laments that few people are worried about their legacies when the sun is shining brightly in the sky.”
The Bennet sisters Jane and Elizabeth laughed lightly, as they too had often heard their uncle complain much the same. The matter provided the perfect bridge into discussing what Elizabeth had most sought to confirm.
“I know that Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy have inquired, but is it certain there is no obligation to rebuild Longbourn from the entailment?” Elizabeth asked and her aunt proudly smiled.
While Lynn Phillips held no formal legal education, being married for so many decades to a country solicitor, she had naturally assisted her husband in many of the more mundane tasks of running his practice. Such an economy assisted him when money was short or a clerk could not be found. But Mrs. Phillips would never presume to offer legal advice, and she always prepared her statements thusly.
“While it is not for me to say definitively, your uncle has explained that all hinges on the fact that Mr. Collins is not your father’s son. Had you a brother to inherit the estate, then things would have been most bleak. For I believe the papers did include language of great burden upon preserving the legacy as a means of enticing the next generation to sign such a restrictive contract.”
“Heir presumptive over heir apparent,” Elizabeth stated the proper terms she had learned from reading her father’s law books in his library. When she was younger, Elizabeth held a fantastical notion that she might find some way to break the entail so that her sister Jane might inherit. But as her Grandfather Bennet had been most careful to use the brightest legal minds in all of his dealings, there was no such hope with the entail placed upon Longbourn.
“It is so very sad for Mr. Collins,” Jane said in her characteristic empathy for all of God’s creatures while Elizabeth’s expression soured.
“I should think not. The man deserves no consideration by us,” Elizabeth said most harshly and Jane blanched.
When Jane didn’t respond further, Elizabeth realized her harshness had killed the pleasant conversation. For the sake of her kin, she mollified her speech.
“I only meant that after his terrible treatment of me, perhaps it is for the best. My husband said that the tenants began leaving the estate as early as this summer,” Elizabeth attempted again, but this appeared to anger her aunt.
“Lizzie,” Jane admonished, and Elizabeth looked at her sister in complete astonishment. She could not understand what she had said to step a toe out of line this time.
“You are young and idealistic. To you, the world is right or wrong, black or white. But with age comes wisdom, and the realization that one’s reputation takes years to form, and a single bad connection to ruin,” Lynn Phillips chastised her wealthy niece most poetically.
Elizabeth, embarrassed, looked down at the remaining food on her plate, no longer hungry.
“I never meant to harm anyone. I love him, and he is a good man,” she stated, the often-repeated defense Elizabeth had used in her mind and verbally when she needed to justify her disapproving courtship with Mr. Darcy.
“Ah, but that is the point, my dear,” Lynn Phillips said, in a much kinder voice so that Elizabeth looked up. “You and Jane have grown, Jane is a mother. And you will find that part of adulthood is any action you take, any deed you leave undone, has consequences you intend and do not. As I said, the world is not divided into right and wrong.”
Jane beamed appreciatively at their aunt, as the last few months she had come to a new respect for a woman they visited less often than their younger sisters since Aunt Phillips kept her parlor busy. The fracture in the Bennet family had helped Jane learn her aunt was not merely a social busybody, but a very educated and witty woman. As she had not been blessed with children, she had filled her home with laughter and good cheer in another way.
But Elizabeth, without the benefit of Aunt Phillip’s company in isolation of the card games and social dinners, was still unclear. But she attempted to talk her way through.
“So, what you mean is that marrying Mr. Darcy or not marrying Mr. Darcy would have had consequences either way, and we cannot help that?”
Aunt Phillips shook her head. “No, I have not suggested a Determinist’s approach. We have Reason, we must use it. But consider that in doing what’s right, even the purest pursuit of good, will have harmful consequences for another. Even if it’s only the person who might have taken your place,” she said, softly.
Elizabeth had much to think about, as her aunt’s words were very provoking. Eager as she was to be back at Pemberley and feel at home, she felt remorseful that she had not spent more time in Aunt Phillips’ company. But then she remembered the resources at her disposal, and Elizabeth smiled.
“I shall not take no for an answer. If Uncle is too busy this season to travel, then please, urge him to plan for spring or summer. And I shall invite the Gardiners, and you, mother, and Uncle Gardiner can be reunited, once more. On holiday!”
Before Aunt Phillips could answer, the parlor door burst open and the younger Bennet daughters and their mother spilled into the room.
“Jane, Jane! You shall never guess who we saw!” Lydia rushed to the side of her eldest sister, greeting Aunt Phillips on her way, and putting her back to Elizabeth.
“I am sure that I cannot guess, so tell me quickly,” Jane humored Lydia.
“The Collins’s! Yes, a fancy carriage rolled through Meryton as we were coming out of the milliners and the window was down. I saw very plainly Charlotte Collins and her husband, our cousin, inside. They didn’t stop, though,” Lydia said thoughtfully, then shrugged her shoulders, “They must be going to Lucas Lodge!”
Elizabeth’s face drained of color and she felt the room begin to spin. She had scarcely closed her eyes than she felt a strong hand steady her elbow.
“Mrs. Darcy?” the brown eyes of her personally assigned footman, Patrick, searched hers for distress.
“Ooh, he is dreamy, Lizzie! La! Why would Mr. Darcy leave behind his handsome footman when he is away, isn’t he afraid–”
“Shut your trap, Lydia Bennet, or so help me I shall shut it for you!” Lynn Phillips startled the niece she most often gave run of her parlor with a set down.
Elizabeth’s throat felt very dry. “Fetch Higgins. I will be fine, Patrick,” she said, then to the larger party, “I have not slept well since Mr. Darcy had to see to our home in London,” she explained.
Jane nodded sympathetically. “And the early weeks can be the hardest,” she started to say, then stopped, but it was too late.
“Early weeks of what?” Mrs. Bennet demanded. “Are you breeding?” she demanded of her second eldest daughter and Elizabeth shivered.
For some reason, even though she knew her and her husband to be perfectly respectable in their marriage, her mother’s vulgar language made Elizabeth doubt herself.
“It is too early to know,” she said, but Mrs. Bennet was not satisfied.
She crossed her arms in a clear rebuke of her daughter’s words. “You expect us to believe you did not lay with Mr. Darcy until this summer when you ran off with him?”
“Mama!” Kitty and Jane said in unison as Lydia and Mary merely watched the verbal sparring.
“Staff in this very house witnessed you share a bed, missy. Your wealth does not excuse you from the Christian standards you were brought up to respect,” Mrs. Bennet hissed the last word as Higgins reached the parlor.
Seeing her maid gave Elizabeth strength; strength to stand up to a woman who had thrown her out of her home less than a year prior.
“You are unloving, unkind, and ignorant of my life from the moment you banished me from Longbourn. I came to offer refuge where I was given none. To offer resources where I was denied. And this is what you think of me?” Elizabeth glared at her mother wishing with all her might she was as tall as her husband and could intimidate them with height as he often did.
Elizabeth reached out a hand for Higgins, who graciously helped her mistress to leave the room. They made it out of the parlor doors before Elizabeth grasped her head with her hands as a great ache tore through her mind. As she crouched to the floor, Higgins waved for Patrick, who had wisely not entered the parlor again but waited in the hall.
“Tell Mr. Darcy I took ill, if you must. But not a word about my mother in your report, please.”
Both servants promised to keep the secret and stayed with Elizabeth until a chamomile draught could be administered and she slumbered in the farthest wing of the home. Her nightmares did return that evening, after taking supper in her room, and it was left to poor Higgins to comfort her.
As Elizabeth spent half the night awake, afraid to go back to sleep and see that beastly man standing over her again, she decided to write a long letter to her Aunt Phillips. She apologized for not seeing her off, and wrote the whole account of her time with Mr. Darcy, leaving very little out. She ended her letter thanking her for the new philosophy to approach life, renewed the invitation to Pemberley more formally, and wished her aunt would not think too lowly of her after they left.
When she went to sign the letter, a funny memory from her childhood flashed in her mind of she and Jane dressed in fine gowns for one of the earliest times she could remember. They were at Aunt Phillips’,enjoying tea, and Elizabeth had loved the strawberry tarts so well, she had smeared some on her lovely new dress. Her mother had been most cross, but not her Aunt Phillips, and Elizabeth recalled her aunt teasing her when she had promised to be good.
“Only if you promise to be berry good, Lizzie, berry, berry good for the rest of the afternoon,” her aunt had said.
So Elizabeth signed her letter.
Your Berry Good Niece,
Elizabeth Bennet Darcy
Chapter 16 - The Miracles of Marriage, Book 5 of The Moralities of Marriage
Turmoil tore at Darcy’s heart as he received letters from Netherfield Park the morning he planned to leave for Kent. Elizabeth’s letter concerning Dr. Matthews made him laugh as he agreed with his wife’s sentiments. If he had not left Netherfield in such haste, and under great distraction, he had meant to propose a similar solution for Mr. Bennet’s long-term care.
When he opened the report from Patrick, he was less amused. The footman’s penmanship was haphazard, with the lines uneven as the lad had not much practice. And the wording was blunt that Mrs. Bennet had renewed arguing with Mrs. Darcy and the dizzying spells had returned. Thankfully, there was no report of Elizabeth falling again, in a full faint, and for that, Mr. Darcy was thankful as he bit his knuckle reading the worst of his footman’s tale.
Wisely, he had saved the last of Elizabeth’s letters for after reading the footman’s and received a more couched, though truthful, account of her health and well-being with her mother. There was no denial that his absence had permitted Mrs. Bennet to behave bolder in her censure of her least favorite daughter, the one she now blamed for all of their misfortune. Such an assessment prompted Darcy to speak aloud, as though his wife were standing near to him instead of away at Netherfield.
“Oh, her misfortunes have been great, indeed,” he remarked, thinking of how tempting it was to rescind the offer of sanctuary at Pemberley and force that old hag to truly feel the depths of her husband’s poor management.
Instead, he set the letters from his wife aside so they would travel with him, and he reminded himself that Elizabeth was strong, loved her family, and was not without protection. In this spirit, he was able to pen his letter in response to her:
My Dearest Elizabeth,
I am vexed on your behalf, my darling, at the inhumane treatment you suffer at the hands of some of your relations. I should like to suggest you replace those misbehaving with some of mine, but I’m afraid I, too, am in short supply of dependable relations.
I am grateful for your warnings about my safety in coming to London. No physical harm has come to me, the mobs were long dispersed and I’m afraid now the only threat to our home in town is the boredom of peace and tranquility. However, your concerns did place in my mind a certain heightened awareness of my surroundings, if only perhaps to prevent ceding the point to you and becoming harmed, that I was able to foil a plot of my enemies in this farce of a mining business setup by Lord Strange. I dare not commit more details to paper, but please know that your husband is well and dearly aches to be at your side.
Unfortunately, there is need for me to call in Kent. I am repulsed and vehemently against spending any amount of time with my aunt Catherine or my sister. But I need to convince Richard to come to London and aid his father.
Have you ever studied the philosophy of war by Sun Tzu? If you have not, there is a copy of his treatises in the library at Pemberley. The tome is in French, but I am certain that will pose no challenge for you.
I am most impressed by your care for the future to invite my Aunt Margaret’s aid in settling your family at our home. You should know, as I was present when she received your invitation, she was already planning to come to your side. Her delight in your letter was a happy moment for me to watch. She can be strong-minded, but I think she will greatly balance the opposition to your mother when your more “peace-at-all-costs” sisters lose their stomach to stand firm.
I cannot wait to hold you in my arms, and tell you all that has transpired here. I aim to make my visit to Kent short and with any luck, should not arrive long behind you and your family in Derbyshire.
Your Loving Husband,
Fitzwilliam Darcy
As he sealed the letter, he laughed at his conversation about postal economy with his aunt. Although he could send his letter to Elizabeth through the regular post, he called for a messenger to take the letter in person. With any luck, Elizabeth would use the boy to send a letter back and it would be waiting for him when he was done in Kent.
Giving Mrs. Potter strict instructions to go directly to Lord Matlock for any problems, and to ask that no one reveal he was not at home, but merely unavailable for visitors should anyone ask, Mr. Darcy mounted his steed Alexander back near the stables to meet his carriage over around the corner.
“And Mrs. Potter, do document any and all who seek an audience with me. No matter who it is.”
“Yes, sir,” Mrs. Potter agreed, shivering in the snap of cold October brought in the early morning before the sun had been given a proper chance to have his say.
The Miracles of Marriage
a Pride and Prejudice variation novel
Release Date: July 25, 2019
Pages: 306
Book 5 in the Moralities of Marriage Series. Chapters posting now on Elizabeth’s site.
After the murder of George Wickham in the streets of London and the fire at Longbourn, Mr. Darcy and his lovely bride, Elizabeth Bennet, must cut their wedding trip to Scotland short. With the financial stakes of all families hanging in the balance of London’s politics, the Darcys will have to work together to see to everyone’s needs. But with so much tragedy and scandal, can Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam rely on each other, or has the trust between our dear couple worn to edges beyond repair?
+ 23 additional Pride & Prejudice variations are available at these fine retailers . . .
Keep Reading Chapters Below!
Chapter 12-16 The Miracles of Marriage
Book is OUT! Sorry the chapters are late, but I am auntie to a new nephew!
Chapter 17-21 The Miracles of Marriage
Book is OUT! Working on putting the chapters up for everyone to read!
Chapter 22-26 The Miracles of Marriage
Book is OUT! Working on putting the chapters up for everyone to read!
Chapter 27-29 The Miracles of Marriage
All the feels wrapping this one up . . . and whoa!
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.