The Heart of Marriage Chapter 4

I worry that my grief is not only for my mother but also for the estate that I grew up on, where I dreamed of raising my family and lifting the sad, dark veil of my mother’s reign upon the land. How does one reconcile they mourn a house and not question if they are being punished by God for their own sin of greed? Perhaps I should not question too greatly the plans of the Almighty in both His timing in taking my mother and the details of my inheritance. With my mother’s settlement, Richard and I will have more than enough to live almost anywhere of our choosing, and that is a blessing I am most grateful to keep. I did pray for freedom of Rosings almost my entire life, how wretched am I to turn down an answer to my pleadings?

By the time we arrived, Mrs. Georgiana Wickham had already seen to the arrangements of my mother’s interment. Mrs. Annesley, my long-time companion who stayed behind with Mother, confirmed that she passed away in her sleep, there was nothing to be done. Dr. Smeads has left, now that there is neither Mother nor me to care for or pay his bill. Almost immediately upon our arrival, Richard and I were made to feel unwelcome in our return and unwanted by Georgiana.

The larder was practically bare. Richard used funds to procure food from the village. I learned that my mother fell ill some weeks ago, not long after we left for London with Darcy. Not a line was written to alert us, though I cannot truthfully state that my husband and I would have taken much stock in the report. My mother died not a week after we left for London. Without my mother at the helm, the staff listened to Mrs. Wickham, who grew bolder and bolder in her demands. Her decisions left the household in an uproar…

Reading the ghastly report in Anne’s own hands, Elizabeth gasped and mindlessly paced her room. Her steps grew more agitated as Anne described Georgiana’s reprehensible behavior in great detail. When she had reached the part about Mr. Darcy’s sister concealing the death of Lady Catherine de Bourgh for weeks, she came to an abrupt halt. Tears began to well in her eyes in empathy with poor Anne as she began reading the next part.

My mother’s body had been buried for weeks before we received word from Georgiana, as she intended to keep control of Rosings Park, undisturbed, for as long as she could. Mrs. Annesley, I believe, was also instrumental in confronting my younger cousin, as the staff began leaving in droves. They each had received their quarter’s pay at the end of September, and even without a reference, they took their fortunes elsewhere. I can only guess at what terror Mrs. Wickham put them through, and if she held more experience, she would have known the first few weeks after the quarter is the worst time to place stress on the staff. The new owners of Rosings will have a difficult winter until the hiring fair in spring. But perhaps my uncle and his family will not be so very inconvenienced if their living conditions are less than Rosings is now.

By the third day, both Richard and I grew weary of holding the same argument with our cousin. Georgiana is convinced that the correct will of Sir Lewis de Bourgh states that her deceased husband held the priority of inheritance. No amount of logic or evidence to the contrary persuaded her otherwise. She demanded of my husband that the remainder of her dowry be released to her control, a decision I believe would be greatly to her detriment. I endeavored to feel compassion for her, as she has most recently delivered her son, and still mourns the loss of her husband. I suspected the loss of my mother, even though the protection she provided is far from pleasant, was protection, all the same, has increased Georgiana’s sense of vulnerability. It is the only explanation I can give for her harsh words and disgraceful behavior…

“No! That is what everyone always does for that girl! Make excuses for her behavior. But this time, she has gone too far,” Elizabeth said, combatively to the letter that could not reply.

“Ma’am?” Higgins interrupted as a maid brought a tray of food into the room.

Still distracted by the letter, Elizabeth pointed at the small table where the tray could go and waved her maid off. She turned her back and flipped the page, blinking her tears away. She felt compelled to finish the letter to learn more about what happened at Rosings.

Unfortunately, we had to decide on our travel sooner than we desired due to my condition. Knowing how uncomfortable the trip was for me to Rosings, even I wanted to leave the estate of my childhood sooner than later. Not knowing my father’s kin, I did not wish to risk staying in the Dowager Cottage for more weeks and then finding ourselves in the difficult position of remaining in Kent through the winter.

Despite us offering to bring her with us, Georgiana categorically refused to leave. She accused us of tricking her out of her son’s inheritance. We tried to explain that there was no inheritance for young Master Thomas Wickham, but it was to no avail. Regrettably, we loaded a wagon with the last of the things I wished to keep, even as Georgiana tried to tell me I could not take anything while the estate was in probate. I am not certain where she is getting her information, as Mr. Longwell, the senior, told my husband that Georgiana had written to him for advice and he had not written back. He believes a seventeen-year-old young woman, even if she is a widow, ought to seek the counsel of her guardians. I suppose it is lucky that Mr. Longwell was not blessed with daughters.

We did not wish to leave Georgiana alone to accept my father’s family, but what other choice did we have? She is too old to be put into a carriage, kicking and screaming, though my husband suggested such a solution. I refused. I worry for my cousin, but I know she is resourceful when needs must. I only hope she comes to her senses before it is too late. I did wonder, privately in the carriage, if some impartial trustee could be designated for Georgiana’s dowry, but Richard said that was a question best left for your husband…

Outside in the hall, Mr. Darcy brushed his hair back, then rapped his knuckles on the door to his wife’s bedroom. He waited impatiently, tapping his foot, and then tried the handle, entering before being acknowledged. Instead of finding a wife in the amorous mood she held when she left his study a half hour ago, she turned on him with a sour expression across her face.

“Did Richard tell you about Georgiana’s treachery?”

Mr. Darcy sighed. Ignoring his wife’s question, he gallantly strolled over to her bed and slipped off his shoes. As he spoke, he relaxed upon the mattress with his hands clasped behind his head. “In some words, yes.”

Instinctively, Elizabeth drew closer to her husband, laying the unfinished letter on her pillow. She clambered up to sit facing him, with her knees tucked beneath her. She grabbed the letter and began reading it out loud:

“Richard promised he would return within the month, once he had seen me safely delivered to London. Secretly, I don’t wish for him to go, and certainly not before we hear from Uncle Henry, who is seeking Lord Brahmington and his wife to leave Alnwick Castle in the north. We also left Georgiana with some funds, but nothing extravagant. Just before we left, the estate received a letter to expect my uncle and his son to arrive within the month.” Elizabeth stopped reading and addressed her husband.

“Anne suggests we appoint a trustee and give Georgiana her dowry. What are your thoughts?”

Darcy closed his eyes. Elizabeth sat patiently, her spine rigid, as she expected an answer from her husband. The room fell into a heavy silence as their accord about handling family matters together was tested.

“Wouldn’t you like to know how things went with your mother?” he asked.

“In due time,” Elizabeth retorted, shaking the letter to emphasize her current quarry. Waiting for her husband to realize she would not be put off, Elizabeth read the rest of the letter, silently.

As we drove away, I wanted to feel some pangs of pain or regret. But I felt numb to the world and my problems in it, finding the experience of being an adult orphan utterly foreign. I have not given my cousin Darcy enough credit for his work in the last few years. This void is frightening and I do not wish for it to overtake my joys.

Regardless of what the future holds for Georgiana and her son, I must remind myself that it is their home, not mine. I hope my father’s relations are kind and will allow a distant relation and her young son to remain on the property. I even suggested that she consider moving to the Dowager Cottage, but that repulsed her.

I believe we plan to remain in London until my confinement, but I hope we can come to see you and your family in the spring.

With Love,

Anne Fitzwilliam

Carefully, Elizabeth refolded the letter and shifted her weight as to leave her bed and husband’s proximity. Mr. Darcy gently reached out and placed his hand over hers.

“What do you believe we should do about Georgiana?” he asked.

Casting the letter to her bedside table, Elizabeth blew out a breath and then opened and closed her mouth repeatedly, before finally speaking. “At the moment, Fitzwilliam, I have the most intense feelings of wrath against the girl, my opinion is irrational.”

“Then you understand how I also feel.”

The truth of their shared emotional state broke her resolve. She desperately wanted his physical comfort and so she leaned forward to lay next to him. Mr. Darcy awkwardly shifted his arms to catch her as she snuggled down into the crook of his arm. Their breathing regulated to each other, and he stroked the outside of her arm with his hand.

Elizabeth felt her anger slowly begin to dissipate as she listened to the steady, strong heartbeat of her husband. She could not deny that Mr. Darcy loved Georgiana deeply and wanted only what was best for her. The problem was Georgiana continued to be an unwilling participant in her own success.

“What did my mother say about the ball?” Elizabeth asked.

Mr. Darcy chuckled and squeezed his wife’s form next to him. “I asked her to begin planning dinners for the local gentry once a week, on Thursdays, as it was a tradition of my parents.”

“But that should be a task for me as well,” Elizabeth pointed out and her husband laughed again, with his deep, baritone voice disturbing her position, she gently pulled away to sit up.

Darcy followed her and cupped her face with his hands.

“Should I do everything my steward does?” he asked, nuzzling his nose to hers.

“No,” she said, immediately.

“Then give your mother tasks. Do you want less time, Mrs. Darcy, for your . . .” he began, clearing his throat, and tantalizingly marching his fingertips down her back until she shuddered, “other pursuits?” he finished, huskily.

She leaned into and the couple shared a kiss, that led to another and another. As they began to divest one another of clothing, Elizabeth relented that his plan for Mother Bennet was a solid one. Any plans for Georgiana would require more thought and planning.

For the rest of the Pemberley household, nothing was amiss. Since Mr. Darcy had returned from London at the beginning of November, the couple often spent the afternoon secluded to accommodate Mrs. Darcy’s need for rest. Even though her body no longer suffered the same symptoms she did earlier in her condition, the newlywed couple found the brief respite from family and estate obligations one they wished to keep.