Page 33 of I am Jael (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

Pemberley

“How are you this morning, Elizabeth?” Fitzwilliam Darcy asked his wife, his eyes searching her face carefully.

“So far, today is a good day,” Elizabeth replied, carefully sipping ginger tea. “Mrs. Hyatt recommended this tea and I believe it is helping alleviate the discomfort. Otherwise I would not drink it as ginger is not my favorite of tastes.”

Darcy leaned over to press his lips on his wife’s forehead. They were delighted that Elizabeth had conceived two months into their marriage, but he was sorry that Elizabeth was following the path of her sister Jane with much nausea and fatigue.

“I am well, Fitzwilliam,” she assured him as she ran a hand along his freshly shaven cheek. “Do not worry about me.”

“I do worry, but Mrs. Hyatt tells me that you are doing very well and I must trust her greater judgment. I will be leaving shortly for a few hours as John Montgomery has noted a problem with flooding in his east pasture. My steward and I are riding over to inspect the area.”

“Godspeed, my dear. Charlotte Collins will be here shortly and will be a pleasant distraction to any internal distress.”

“And is she ... well?” he asked delicately.

Elizabeth pouted adorably, “She is more than well, she is glowing. I find it quite unfair that both Jane and I have looked pale and wan during the early stages of pregnancy and Charlotte looks as if she could easily climb Maple Mount.”

Darcy chuckled at this just as a maid stepped into the room with Mrs. Collins at her heels.

The two greeted one another with a bow and a curtsey and Darcy left with a light heart. His Elizabeth would be well entertained by one of her closest friends.

“Dear Eliza, you look well,” Charlotte said, though her tone was uncertain.

“I look dreadful, Charlotte,” Lizzy replied with a smirk, “but that is quite all right. Not all of us take to childbearing as you do.”

Charlotte chuckled and looked down at her slightly swollen form. She was a few weeks ahead of Elizabeth in her pregnancy and she had indeed found the entire experience delightful.

“How do you find the parsonage in Lambton?” Elizabeth asked, smiling at a maid who had entered with a tea tray. A moment later, she fixed a cup of tea just as Charlotte liked it, with two sugars.

“It is very pleasant,” Charlotte assured her friend, reaching out for the cup.

“I understand it is smaller than the vicarage at Hunsford.”

“I care not, I assure you, dear friend. It was such a blessing to get away from Lady Catherine that I was nearly willing to live in a cave.”

Elizabeth looked startled by this open criticism and Charlotte responded contritely, “I apologize. I should not be so negative of Lady Catherine. I find that my natural equanimity has been somewhat affected by my pregnancy, even if my digestion has not.”

Her friend laughed and shook her head, “I have said far worse things about Lady Catherine, Charlotte. I am not offended in the least, merely surprised. But I ought not to be; even dear Jane has shown an unusual acerbity these months.”

“You have heard nothing from Netherfield?”

“Jane’s child is due soon and I eagerly await a letter, but no, the last I heard all was serene at Netherfield, or at least as serene as it can be with my mother and sisters visiting nearly daily.”

“I expect that is somewhat wearing for Jane and Mr. Bingley, though both are sanguine individuals. But to return to your question, the Lambton parsonage is very comfortable and Mr. Russ is very kind. I know I have said it before, but I am incredibly grateful to Mr. Darcy for arranging for Mr. Collins to receive the living at Lambton. Lady Catherine was always somewhat difficult, but she grew quite vicious after Mr. Collins refused to play a part in her attempt at vengeance against you and your family.”

Elizabeth patted her friend’s arm gently, “It was the very least we could do. We are grateful for Mr. Collins’s forbearance in the matter.”

Charlotte chuckled, “Our marriage improved after Mr. Collins had his epiphany regarding Lady Catherine. So I am also very grateful for all that transpired.”

/

Lady Catherine de Bourgh glowered at her housekeeper incredulously, “Both of the Miller sisters have given notice? Why?”

Her housekeeper repressed a sigh. If she had been willing to be rapidly unemployed, she would have answered, “Because you are an aged harpy, my lady.”

But no, she needed her position.

“The Miller sisters did not say, my lady. They merely gave their two week notice. I did not press them.”

“Why not? They are privileged to work as maids at Rosings! Do they imagine they will have the honor of working at another great house?”

“I could not say, my lady.”

“They will receive no references from me,” Lady Catherine barked angrily. “Tell them that.”

“As you wish, my lady.”

The housekeeper was enormously thankful when the butler entered the room with a letter on a silver salver. Lady Catherine dismissed her with a wave of her hand, and took the letter from the tray.

The butler also withdrew, leaving the lady to stare down incredulously at the letter in her hand.

It was from her daughter Anne. She found her knees oddly weak and she sank down on a nearby chair, her gaze fixed on that familiar handwriting.

She had heard nothing directly from Anne since her daughter had left Rosings.

She knew, of course, that Anne was safely ensconced in London with Lord and Lady Matlock; the latter, indeed, had sent her several letters in the last months describing Anne’s improved health and encouraging the mother to write to the daughter.

As if she herself was somehow at fault! She was not the one who had fled her birthplace like a thief in the night. She was not the one who had cast aside all honor and decorum by befriending the conniving woman who now bore the name Mrs. Darcy!

No, Lady Catherine had chosen to stay quite aloof of the whole disgusting affair once her attempts to ameliorate the situation had failed in Hertfordshire.

Mr. Bennet, disdaining her high rank, had threatened to throw her from Longbourn and Lord Matlock had refused her access to Anne at Netherfield.

She, like Pontius Pilate before her, had washed her hands of the entire situation.

Now, at last, it seemed, Anne had come to her senses and had written to her mother. The girl was far too young and foolish to be on her own and she must be lonely for Rosings and her mother’s benevolent care.

She carefully sliced open the envelope and smugly opened the letter to read.

Dear Mother,

I hope this letter finds you well in body and in spirit. I myself am very well indeed. My health is better than it has been in many years, and I have much enjoyed the society and congeniality of Matlock House and her inhabitants.

Nevertheless, with the changing of the seasons has come a deep desire in my heart to return to Rosings. London has its delights, but I will always be a daughter of Kent and I intend to return shortly after the New Year.

Lord Matlock, Colonel Fitzwilliam, Darcy and I have conferred with the family lawyers to discuss my father’s will and the proper disposition of the Rosings Estate.

Our lawyers assure me that as of my twenty-fifth birthday, I became the legal and sole heir to the Rosings Estate, with all the authority vested therein to oversee the tenants, choose a clergyman, etc.

Given your propensity to control my life, I have decided that you and I can never dwell in harmony in the mansion itself.

Therefore, I write this letter to inform you that when I return to Rosings, you will be required to move to the Dower House.

This is an immutable point and nothing you can say will change my inviolate decision.

As you will no doubt argue that my decision is overbearing, I will mention that I have been in frequent communication with Mrs. Darcy, who tells me that you persecuted the Collins family until they fled Kent for a new living in the town of Lambton near Pemberley.

It grieves me that you were vindictive and cruel to Mrs. Collins, a woman whom I consider a genuine friend.

I hope and pray to the Almighty God that you and I can live in peace once you have moved into the Dower House. I wish to be on good terms with you, but I will not permit you to rule my life again.

God’s blessings on you,

Anne de Bourgh

Lady Catherine read through this letter three times, the first time with anticipation, the second time incredulously, the third time in horror.

Thrown out of Rosings? Relegated to the Dower House?

She realized she was quivering with anger and genuine fear. Anne was the rightful owner of Rosings. How could this have happened? What could have caused her submissive and quiet daughter to rebel against her so thoroughly?