Page 61 of A Life Diverted

B y the time everyone made for Rosings Park to celebrate Christmastide—due to the winter weather, Kent had been chosen for the family to celebrate the season—everything which needed to be arranged for the triple wedding in January had been well and truly organised by the three mothers of the brides and all of the cadre of available helpers.

Given the expected crowd, the ceremony was to be held at St Alfred’s church in Meryton.

Mr Pierce, Longbourn Village Church’s rector would conduct the personal parts of the ceremony for Miss Bennets and Wendell, while Mr Kimble, who had christened Miss Lucas and her siblings, would perform those parts of the service for her—so in the end, it was as if Charlotte was marrying from Lucas Lodge.

As the Meryton church was more than three times the size of the one at Longbourn, it had been a practical choice.

It did not hurt that Messrs Pierce and Kimble and their respective wives were the best of friends which made their easy cooperation a foregone conclusion.

The wedding breakfast was being planned at Netherfield Park.

The reason was simple. Lucas Lodge was much smaller than the Bennets’ estate, and even with the additions the Bennets had made to Longbourn’s manor house, it was still quite a bit smaller than Netherfield Park, and the former did not have a ballroom.

Lady Catherine, who would never be able to plan a wedding for her late daughter, threw herself into helping with anything she was asked to do.

She had thought that the only time she would have been able to participate in the organising of a wedding for a female relative would be at some point for Giana.

She had been gratified to be proved wrong.

It had been some time since she had visited Richard at Rosings Park, but she knew she would escape the maudlin thoughts with the whole of the family present.

Mr and Lady Richard Fitzwilliam had arrived at Rosings Park on the sixteenth of December, a few days shy of a month since their wedding.

The journey over four days—they felt no need to hurry—and the honeymoon at Seaview House had been everything they imagined and so much more.

They simply could not get enough of one another.

For two who thought they had been consigned to loveless lives apart from each other, they could not have been more filled with joy.

That felicity permeated throughout the mansion.

Even though Richard was always a happy person, there had been a pall over the house since little Miss Anne had passed away.

That melancholy was now gone. The staff and servants walked about with a spring in their steps. The whole house simply felt lighter, almost as if the love between the master and mistress seeped into the very foundations of the structure.

Lady Melody had assumed the duties of mistress seamlessly and worked with her housekeeper to prepare for the large influx of guests.

Thankfully the house was a sizable one, so there were sufficient chambers for everyone.

The three engaged men had been assigned suites on the top floor, two floors above their fiancées, and there would be more than enough footmen on duty each night making sure that nothing improper would or could occur—not that anyone expected it would.

In addition to the Fitzwilliams, Darcys, Bennets—James had arrived home on the fifteenth of the month for the Christmastide break—Wendells, Lucases, Gardiners, and Phillipses, Lady Melody was in anticipation of seeing her mother, Marie, and Harry as well.

They would arrive in Hertfordshire by the eighteenth of December and travel into Kent with everyone else the next day.

So it was that on the afternoon of the nineteenth of December, the recently married Fitzwilliams stood under the portico, which covered part of the drive in front of the front door, and watched the convoy of coaches being pulled down the gravel covered drive.

It was a cold day, but thankfully, there had been no snow in Kent yet, so it was nothing to what either member of the couple had experienced in the shires where they were born.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

On Friday morning, as there was no precipitation, Elizabeth desired to walk outside.

As neither Jane nor Charlotte were great walkers, they decided to remain in the warmth with their respective Wendell brother.

There would be no shortage of chaperones to accompany them.

All of the younger crowd, from James Bennet down to Peter Gardiner—the two Gardiner daughters chose to remain indoors—walked out with the engaged couple.

For good measure four of the guards escorted the walkers as well.

Darcy, having visited first his aunt and uncle, and then Richard at this estate regularly, was well aware of where Ellie would enjoy walking. Even though the trees were bare, and there were no flowers to be seen, he chose the route through the groves to the glade.

As they walked Elizabeth turned to her beloved who had covered her hand laced around his arm with his free hand.

“What do you think, William? If in another life you and I had been walking in this grove, and you thought me the daughter of a lowly country squire, would you have hidden your interest in me to the extent that I would have been unaware of it?”

“Quite possibly,” Darcy replied honestly.

He did not miss Ellie’s question as conveyed by her arched eyebrow.

“Before Richard and I discovered you, I was a rather taciturn, unsociable and at times, overly proud man. If I remember the man I was then, I would more likely than not have fought my inclination for you until I woke up and accepted that you are the only woman for me. That is, as long as I had not insulted you and made you hate me before then.”

“Why do you think you were like that?” Elizabeth squeezed his arm. “Before you reply, indeed, if you choose to, you must know that I have never seen any improper pride in you.”

“I appreciate that; thank you, Ellie,” Darcy applied some gentle pressure to the hand underneath his top one.

“Before you came back into our lives, I was a selfish being, and had been for all my life, in practice, though not in principle.

As a child I was taught what was right, but I was not taught to correct my temper.

I was given good principles but left to follow them in pride and conceit.

Unfortunately, as an only son, and indeed for many years an only child, I was unintentionally spoilt by my parents.

Though they were good themselves—they were both all that was benevolent and amiable—they allowed and in some ways encouraged and almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing.

This upbringing taught me to care for none beyond my own family circle; to think meanly of all the rest of the world; to wish at least to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own.

Such I was, from eight to five and twenty; and such I might still have been but for you, dearest, loveliest Ellie!

What do I not owe you! Your recovery taught me a lesson.

Hard indeed at first, but most advantageous.

Seeing how the Bennets, who had no expectations of reward, had treated and nurtured you, I was properly humbled.

I came into Hertfordshire still irked at my failure to see Miss Younge for what she was as Richard had, without any doubt of my reception.

Seeing you, how you are, as well as all those who love you, showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions.

Now my only aim in life is to please a woman worthy of being pleased.

“Had I not known who you were, the way you treated Giana, making her feel welcome and seeing that there are those who offer friendship without any ulterior motives, would have forced me to consider you more than I otherwise would have. You were not anything like the sister of a certain former friend of mine.”

“I am sure that telling me all of that must have cost you mortification, and that makes me appreciate your openness all the more.”

“Between us, Ellie, even before we marry in the sight of God and man, there will never be secrets.” Darcy paused. “In that vein I need to tell you that Caroline Bingley is no longer in the mortal world.”

Elizabeth responded that although she had not known Caroline Bingley very long, from the contact she did have and the news of the late Miss Bingley’s dishonourable actions the night after the assembly, the woman had been someone Elizabeth never wanted to see again.

That being said, she had not wished any harm on the lady, especially not death. “How do you know?”

“I received a letter from Scarborough from Mr Bingley. Evidently seeing the announcement of our engagement sent her into a tantrum of huge proportions. She hurled a large vase against a wall close to her, and some of the pieces bounced off the wall and lodged into her neck, thus ending her life. Her death was like her life, cold and bitter.”

“Did Mr Bingley attempt to lay responsibility for his sister’s demise at your door?”

“No, Ellie, he did not. It seems he has taken our words to heart and begun to grow up. He pointed the finger first at his sister as it was her own actions which ended her life. After that, he took responsibility on his own shoulders for not attempting to check her much sooner. He owns that giving into her desires, no matter how unreasonable he knew them to be, was one of his biggest errors.”

“From what you and Richard told me of his past behaviour, it does seem like he has matured quite a lot. Did he apologise for his actions at Netherfield Park?”