Page 40 of Expectations (Obstinate, Headstrong Girl #7)
Six Years Later
“ H e paid how much?” Darcy asked. He sat in Pemberley’s drawing room with his wife and sister-in-law, the window sashes drawn up, permitting warm breezes and autumn sunshine to enter the dignified chamber.
“Six thousand pounds,” Lydia replied. “To be fair, it was the largest collection of pipes in the kingdom, many of them antiques. One even belonged to Queen Elizabeth, a gift from Sir Walter Raleigh—all with proper provenance. Collecting such items is all the rage, and Andrew knew it would go high. How high, he did not realise, however.”
“How in the world did you get hold of such a collection in the first place?”
Lydia smiled. “When one is in financial trouble, one has a range of options. The money lenders, of course, or selling at auction. There are certain noblemen, however, who earn a living brokering for a reasonable percentage. More than one of those sorts has discovered Andrew’s reputation for an ability to create interest where none before existed, while at the same time keeping the sale very private. ”
“Well done, Andrew,” Elizabeth said. “However, if I had to guess, I would suspect a certain Lydia Philips as responsible for creating at least some of that interest. It always has amazed me, your ability to elevate the ugliest old goblet into an objet d’art , whether with your words or your sense of display, when you used to have the shops. ”
Lydia only smiled slyly, and quickly turned the subject. “We have learnt Lord Nottley will be selling Estwick Hall soon. Is it true, do you think?”
Before either Darcy or Elizabeth could answer, twelve-year-old Cassandra Darcy entered the drawing room with a put-upon air.
“Mama, the twins will not leave me alone long enough for me to finish my letter to Thomas!” Two identical, dark-haired, dark-eyed girls peeked out from behind her skirts, pretending they had no idea why their beloved elder sister could possibly be frustrated.
“Tell Tilson or Joan, dear,” Elizabeth advised.
“Oh, but the girls will cry if anyone but you return them to the nursery, Mama.”
Elizabeth sighed. “What Cassandra means is, she interrupted their routine to extract them for unsanctioned playtime, and now that she is finished and they are not, she wishes to avoid the bother of their tears and the annoyance of their caretakers by making me put them back.” She held out her hands. “Janie, Sophia, come to Mama.”
With giggles, the little girls came running, and launched themselves into Elizabeth’s waiting arms. Cassandra grinned. “Thank you, Mama!” she said, and disappeared.
Elizabeth stood, taking the hand of each. “One moment Cassandra is a young lady, the next, still a mischievous child. Come now, girls, let us go up, now, and Mama will read you a story before baby Fitzwilliam awakes from his nap.”
“You need not worry much until Cassandra is a mischievous young lady,” Lydia said wryly, looking at the two little imps who were pulling their mother eagerly towards the staircase. “How is she doing, truly, with Thomas at Eton?”
“They both had a few very bad weeks,” Darcy replied.
“His letters were heartbreakingly stoic. Cassandra cried so many tears, I feared she would take ill. Thankfully, he has quickly made friends, and Cassandra is generally occupied with the baby, the twins, and ordering Walter about, except when she is not. I offered Thomas tutors so he could remain home, but he is determined to do everything as his father did.”
“Except better, I think,” Lydia said. “He is a clever child. There are holes large enough to drive a carriage through, in the stories he has heard about his father.”
“He is an excellent lad—possessing all the best qualities of his father and mother and a great many of his own. I have heard reliable rumours that Netherfield Park may be up for sale soon, and I will probably acquire it. I believe Thomas will, someday, be the perfect master of that particular property.” Darcy fixed her with a raised eyebrow.
“Now, why do you mention Estwick Hall? Could it be that you have an interest?”
He appeared surprised—which of course, was no surprise at all to Lydia.
She and Andrew had always lived simply. Andrew was his uncle’s heir, and it was assumed that they would eventually return to Meryton, taking over the Philips’s fine residence once they no longer occupied it.
The fact that Estwick Hall was a lovely manor house and included many acres of prized real estate—and was comparable to Longbourn in size and value—was probably most of it, however. “We do,” Lydia answered.
Her brother-in-law was gentlemanly enough not to doubt her, nor Andrew’s ability to purchase said estate.
“I did not know you were in the market for one.”
“Is it a problem that we are?” She could not help the question. She would not precisely blame Darcy for feeling that way, but she would certainly not look for anything this close to them if he did.
“Why should it be? You and Philips are among the most sensible people we know. It could only be good for the neighbourhood if you were to join it.”
“Not everyone will feel that way, and you know why. Andrew is the son of a solicitor, and has made his fortune in trade—not any sort of genteel trade, either, if such a thing exists. We are shopkeepers, as my father likes to remind us.”
“You sold the shops for more profitable ventures—ventures from which we have both benefited. Your father is stubborn and old-fashioned and proud of you, in his stubborn, old-fashioned way.”
“Hmph” was her only reply.
“I ask because I have never heard either of you express any interest in farming or landowning,” Darcy persisted.
Lydia sighed. She had determined to visit and find out what she wished to know; here was her opportunity.
Still, she was not fond of uncomfortable conversations.
“When I was a girl, I used to listen to Lizzy and Jane talk about their romantic day-dreams, and falling in love with eligible men, and living upon estates within a few miles of each other. As you well know, there was not much of reality in those plans. A part of me used to think however…what if? What if it could be? But of course, Bingley was who he was, and I married Andrew, who was set on an utterly different path, and then Bingley died—taking Jane with him—and there was nothing of romance anywhere in it. I put all such notions away, and then, several weeks ago, I began to suspect that…that perhaps we were not going to remain childless after all, and suddenly, the dreams were back.”
Darcy did not look merely surprised now, but shocked. She grinned. He opened his mouth to speak, but yet another interruption presented itself. Ten-year-old Walter Plumpton stormed into the drawing room.
“Uncle Darcy, Mr Frost says that Athena is foaling and Cassie said she is going to name the colt ‘Bunny’. Please tell her that it is nonsense. Any foal of Athena and Jupiter cannot possibly be named ‘Bunny’.”
Lydia grinned at the subtle way in which Cassandra was, plainly, torturing young Walter.
He was hugely improved—and in fact, had stayed on at Pemberley after his usual summer visit to cheer up Cassandra at Tommy’s departure, and had shown much gallantry in the doing.
His parents liked to boast of Walter’s intimacy with the Darcys; they had not seen much success in trading on the connexion, however, and had to be content with Walter’s.
“I will speak with her about it,” Darcy promised, his eyes twinkling. “We shall go together to the stables later this afternoon, shall we, and take a look? But I suppose you will want to finish your lessons first.”
Walter’s eyes brightened at the promised treat; he quickly agreed, and returned from whence he had come. It amused Lydia to no end that in this grand home, nursery rules were bent constantly in a very Bennet-like fashion.
Darcy quickly reverted to the topic upon which they had been interrupted. “Congratulations on your splendid news, Mrs Philips. Is there anything we might do for your present comfort? Will you allow me to bring your sister to you? She will be deeply excited and happy for you and for Philips.”
“Not yet,” Lydia forestalled him. “I have something I wish to discover first. As I said, I began to imagine a life for my child like the one I had, a life in the country, the life of a young lady or a budding gentleman—except without worrying that some unknown relation might appear, phantom-like, on every dark horizon, to snatch it all away. It was a good life, I can see now…now that my fears of poverty and lovelessness are gone away. Better than anything in the world, really.”
“A very good life,” Darcy agreed.
She appreciated that he did not interject any reminders that Andrew Philips would never be considered a gentleman, no matter if he purchased a grand country manor.
But then, Darcy did not think the same way as most of his peers, regardless that he was accepted in the highest circles.
She forced herself to put into words the feelings of her heart.
“I am not my eldest sister, Jane, however. I have never been anything like her, and my relationship with Lizzy has never been what theirs was, once upon a time. I think it is a very good one, just different, but I have always wondered…if she might resent me, just a little, for being the sister whom she sees most often, who is closest to her. Me, instead of Jane.”
“I hope you have never imagined or felt anything of the sort. She anticipates with great pleasure your every visit and letter, always wishing for more of both.”
“I have not noticed it, but then, she would ensure I would not, I am certain. She would acknowledge that such feelings would be unfair, and do her best to stifle them. Still, I would not have her suffer that final injustice—the dream of living upon a neighbouring estate to a most beloved sister, only for it to be fulfilled by the wrong one.”