Page 59

P eter Waterford—previously known as Lucas Wickham—did not often read the papers from London unless he was looking for a new position. That would no longer be necessary, as he was close enough, but not too close, to Derbyshire. Hence, he had hardly bothered to look at the papers for some months.

The estate of Oak Grange, where the steward worked, was near Chipping Campden in Gloucestershire. It was perfectly situated, and he had his brother-in-law , the dim-witted Clay Younge, to ride into Derbyshire and gather intelligence on his behalf when needed.

“Love, I found something in the London papers from some months ago that will interest you,” Karen Waterford related.

“I have told you there is nothing I need to know of so-called polite society .” Wickham spat the last two words out like they burnt his mouth to sound them out.

It was members of the Ton who had killed his son.

Over the years, Wickham had convinced himself that he and his wife indulging and encouraging George’s schemes had nothing to do with his son’s end.

“Even if it is about that duke who you say would not save your son?” Karen enquired. “Evidently, he has married some young, pretty little thing, hardly out of the schoolroom. This paper is dated towards the end of May.”

Wickham grunted. He was not sure if the information was useful towards his ultimate goals, but he would remember that for the future, just in case.

Clay Younge had not given him much good information; in fact, hardly anything he shared with him was useful.

Wickham would need to keep sending Clay out because if he were to be seen and identified, his planned revenge would be over before it had begun.

His watchword was patience. Turning to his wife, he said, “If you find anything more of use, let me know. Thank you, Karen, my dear.” Wickham then went back to reading the farming almanack.

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

“Of this, you are mistress?” Jane’s mouth hung open when she saw the mansion at Falconwood for the first time.

Jane did not feel jealousy, but the size of the building before her was not anything she had expected to see. With her lack of education, she was fully cognisant of the fact she would have no idea how to manage even a house as tiny—in comparison—as Longbourn’s manor.

The only tinge of envy Jane had felt was when Lizzy and the Duke announced she was with child. She, in no way, begrudged her half-sister her good fortune. No, the envy was because it was Jane’s fervent prayer that she would be a mother one day.

If she ever married and was so blessed, Jane was determined she would not be anything like her late mother or Mr Bennet as a parent.

Since their departure from Greenfield, life for Jane Millar had improved exponentially.

Lizzy had taken both herself and Betsy to a seamstress who made dresses in Dublin, and before they boarded the ship, the friends had the makings of new wardrobes.

It had been decided that rather than Betsy serve as a maid, as she was rather intelligent and knew her letters and sums already, she would be trained by the governesses and Mary’s new companion, Mrs Beatrice Ralston, to be a companion for Jane Millar.

Knowing that the opinion of the denizens of Meryton with regards to Miss Millar was very low, she did not want to live in the neighbourhood.

Hence, she would live with the Chamberlains at whichever estate they resided, or at a house in London during the season.

Jane had demurred when asked if she wanted to partake in society.

She said she was not close to ready for that and did not know if she ever would be.

When they had stopped at the Phillips’ house to allow Cathy and Lydia to alight, Jane had remained securely inside of the Duke’s coach, pushed as far back against the squabs as possible, with the blind down on her side.

She did not want to be seen by any of the people to whom she used to be so rude.

She owned it would be hard to gain their forgiveness and acceptance.

The mares Cathy and Lydia had chosen had travelled back from Ireland with them and would be kept at Longbourn for the two girls, as their aunt and uncle only had so much room in their small stables behind their home.

Jane had been told that if she wanted to ride, there were many available horses in the Falconwood stables.

Hertfordshire and his wife were attempting to convince the Phillipses to take up residence at Longbourn. So far, they had been resistant.

“As Archy told me the first time I saw it, it is but a house,” Elizabeth stated.

The carriages came to a halt under the enormous portico, and just like the first time Elizabeth had come to the estate, and each time subsequently, weather permitting, the staff and servants were lined up to welcome Their Graces home.

“I would like to introduce my half-sister to all of you. She is Miss Jane Millar, and with her is her companion, Miss Walker,” Elizabeth announced.

The servants were released, and Mrs Greaves approached the Duchess. “I had a suite prepared for Misses Millar and Walker,” she informed Her Grace. “Two days past, I received the note you sent from Liverpool.”

“Perfect, thank you, Mrs Greaves.” She turned to Jane and her companion. “Jane, Mrs Greaves will show you and Miss Walker to your chambers.”

“Thank you, Lizzy,” Jane managed, still in awe of her surroundings.

When the housekeeper showed them to the suite they would share, the two former maids were flabbergasted. Betsy almost ran into Jane’s bedchamber. “Jane, there is more space in this suite than all the maids at Greenfield have combined!” she exclaimed.

“Try and remember what my sister said; it is but a home,” Jane said as she took in the magnificence of the chamber. “A huge one, but a house nevertheless.”

“If I have not thanked you enough, I thank you again for bringing me with you. You are the best friend I have ever had,” Betsy said with feeling. “How are we ever to repay all the kindness which has been bestowed on us?”

“Simple,” Jane replied, “by being good and godly people.” She had never meant anything more in her life.

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

Ever since being released from being Will Alexander, William had been throwing himself into his work at River Run when he was not in Kent assisting Richard, who had taken to estate management like a duck to water.

His experiences at Glen Morgan Heights gave him a new appreciation for those who were employed at the estate.

Before he assigned tasks without thought, as he would have in the past, William first asked himself how he would have dealt with new work being heaped on top of that which he already had while he had been in service. By doing that, he was able to make better decisions for those who worked for him.

One of the most important lessons William had taken in was to think long and hard before he spoke. He also tried to ascertain all of the facts first before he made assumptions which ended up with his putting his riding boot in his mouth.

One of the first things he had done on his return from Scotland when he arrived at Pemberley was to request that his sister take a turn in the park with him. Anna had agreed, albeit reluctantly. His mother had reminded him that she had been hurt deeply by his insulting her friends.

William had made no excuses; he had told his sister how very wrong he had been and about the changes he had made to his character. Anna accepted his amends, and from that point, things had been much better between them.

Since they had all seen the genuine changes subsequent to his return, the best thing for William had been the improvement in his relationship with his parents, and especially Anna.

On this particular morning, he had left River Run before dawn to ride the fifty miles to Pemberley. He would remain at the main Darcy estate for a sennight or so before returning south. William was riding Zeus while his valet was following, with his trunk, in the carriage.

William felt the peace of Pemberley begin to envelop him as soon as he passed the gate posts.

He doffed his beaver to the gatehouse keeper, who waved to Master William with a semi-toothless grin on the servant’s face.

The expected pistol shot to signal someone’s arrival was loosed not long after he was past the gatehouse.

Seconds later, the second shot rang out, which he knew would send a lad riding to the manor house.

He relaxed more and more the farther he rode.

As he always did when he arrived at Pemberley, he stopped Zeus at the top of the incline in the gravel drive.

From where he sat atop his stallion, he had a perfect view of the Pemberley valley below.

It stretched from east to west, past the border with Castlemere, and ending in the foothills of the Peaks.

About three miles from the house, which was on rising ground at the west end of the valley, was the River Derwent, which cut across the valley from north to south.

There were several streams feeding into it along the way, and William did not miss the manmade canal which his paternal great-grandfather had built to create and feed the lake.

It was across the grassy area from the house, and on a clear and almost windless day like today, the mansion and the trees around it, in the magnificent reds, browns, and golds of autumn, were reflected on the surface of the lake.

The memories of playing in, and around the lake, in the forest when he was a lad, more often than not with Richard for company, were so thick he felt like he could brush them away from in front of his face.