Page 82 of I Thee Wed (Pride And Prejudice Variation #2)

Darcy sat bent over his escritoire, writing a letter.

The invitation to Richard was written and sealed, ready to post. The letter to Phillip took much longer to compose, and it lay open before him.

At last, after several edits, he rewrote the final copy, sealed it, and handed it to the butler to be posted.

Darcy’s Letter to Phillip

Phillip,

I hope this letter finds you free and able to join me on a holiday to the Lake District.

I have invited Richard and our cousin Anne in hopes of aiding his cause with her.

I am saddened that he is experiencing difficulty bringing Anne to the point.

She is resistant to marriage, regardless of the suitor, but if she could be convinced to accept him, then he might sell out of the service, take possession of Rosings Park, raise a family, and live a settled life.

It is my earnest wish that he not be sent back to the Continent to collect intelligence for the War Office.

It is dangerous work, and he has already put his life at risk for the past eight years.

If you decide to come and assist me in this effort, I must beg one favor of you.

Do not tell Richard that I invited you. Let it be as if it were entirely your own idea.

I do not wish him to believe that we are conspiring to govern his future, or that we intend to force him and Anne into marriage.

I cannot fathom why Anne will not consent, for he loves and respects her.

I have seen them together, and they are often laughing at each other’s jests.

He is even willing to endure Lady Catherine’s temper.

Perhaps you may have more influence over Anne than either of us.

I shall not mention your coming to Lady Helen, for I wish her to be as surprised as Richard and Anne.

Yours ever,

Darcy

“Elizabeth, they have come.” Georgiana was standing at the window, gesturing for Elizabeth to join her. Elizabeth hurried to the window and then took her sister-in-law’s hand. “Come, dear, let us go out and meet them.”

Lady Helen had by this time reached the window and was peering out. “Ah, Elizabeth had not described the sisters accurately. They are both full-figured beauties. At least in that matter, they will suit Phillip.”

Elizabeth ran down the stairs and opened her arms to Jane, clinging to her. “My dear sister, motherhood becomes you. You look radiant and healthy.”

Jane laughed and returned the embrace. “You look well, Lizzy. I am so happy to see you, even if we will remain for only one day.”

Elizabeth then turned to welcome her two guests. She hooked her arms in theirs and began to walk into the house. “I am so grateful you were able to visit me. I have missed you. Please come in. Tea is ready, unless you would first like to go up and refresh yourselves.”

Jane excused herself. “I will go up, Lizzy.”

Elizabeth turned to the sisters. Abby said, “I am ready for tea, Lizzy. I am thirsty and famished.”

Anise quietly added. “I am too.”

Elizabeth gestured to the drawing room. “Come in and sit down.” Then she turned to Mrs. Reynolds. “Please send in the tea.”

Lady Helen joined the three women. “My dear, I know you wish to be with your sister. Georgiana and I will make the Miss Stantons comfortable and keep them company. You go up and see to Jane’s needs.”

Elizabeth looked grateful. “Yes, Lady Helen. I will do that. Thank you.”

Bingley struck Darcy on the shoulder. “How are you doing, my man? Marriage becomes you. For a man who avoided the leg-shackle for so many years, you look very contented.”

Darcy grinned. “Come, Charles. Let us retire to my study, where we may talk. I have a mellow cognac there, the finest you are ever likely to taste.”

Elizabeth tapped on the bedchamber door but became alarmed when she saw her sister’s face.

“What is it, Jane? Is everything well between you and Charles?”

Jane looked grave. “Lizzy, we left a week earlier than we had intended. I did not feel free to write all the particulars, for these are not matters that should be committed to paper. Caroline has lost the baby.”

Elizabeth looked stunned. “Oh, Jane, how dreadful. Was she not already six months pregnant? She looked well when last I saw her.”

“She has been well, Lizzy. But her aunt Martina wrote, saying she lost the baby, and she begged Louisa to come to her. That was two weeks ago. Now, Louisa has written asking for Charles. Caroline will not be consoled. She declares she still loves Lord Dunwich, and she had hoped for a son to cherish in his place. The baby was a son, and when she held him, she broke down, saying she had nothing to live for.”

Elizabeth asked, “Does the physician say why she lost the baby?”

“They said the cord was wrapped around his neck three times, and compression of the cord most likely was the cause.”

Elizabeth sank onto a chair, distressed. “Poor Caroline.”

Jane sat down and began to wring her hands.

“Louisa writes that Caroline is insupportable, yet full of grievances, declaring she loathes her husband, and is angry because she is now bound to him forever. She is angry because he is nothing but a tradesman. We all feel for poor James, he has loved her faithfully through all these years, yet she has turned against him. She even raves that she will never have Mr. Darcy, for he is married to that ‘country nobody,’ and that Lord Dunwich, the love of her life, openly spurned and ruined her.”

Elizabeth listened, her expression grave. “Jane, this surely comes as a result of this terrible loss. Any woman would feel she had nothing to live for. Louisa ensures that her sister is watched day and night, does she not?”

“Yes, and they are hopeful that her spirits may revive in time.” Jane looked at her sister.

“Charles will do what he can to support his cousin, while Louisa tends to Caroline. I only pray to keep out of the way, lest Caroline’s wrath fall on me as the sister of the country nobody who stole away Mr. Darcy. ”

Elizabeth pressed Jane’s hand warmly. “My dear, I hope the family will not take Caroline’s side against you.”

Jane smiled faintly. “Charles has said, if they do, we shall leave.” Jane’s eyes brightened.

“Did I tell you? The owner of Netherfield Park accepted the offer, and Charles will soon have his own estate. Mamma is no longer an embarrassment. You remember how we used to wish we could escape our mother and move away as far as possible?” Both sisters laughed at the memory.

“Charles loves the house; the little creek has good fishing, and he can hunt. Most of all, he values its nearness to London. His solicitor has come to Netherfield to conduct business, saving Charles the trip to town. And Lizzy, Lady Lucas, has been so kind to me since Charlotte’s marriage.

She behaves towards us as she used to in former times.

Your kindness to Charlotte has resulted in a kindness to me. Thank you, sister.”

Elizabeth reached for her sister’s hand. “My dear Jane, I hope things go well for you in Yorkshire. You must take care of yourself, for you, too, are in a delicate state. I send my best wishes to Caroline in her present distress. We cannot know the depth of her suffering.”

The sisters sat in silence until Elizabeth turned the subject. “And what of Lydia? Papa does not mention her when he writes. Perhaps her behavior is not a topic to commit to paper either.”

Jane looked more concerned than before. “Papa is keeping Lydia’s behavior very quiet.

When he arrived at the school in East Suffolk, the headmistress filled his ears with a long account of our sister’s misconduct.

One of the instructors caught Lydia attempting to slip away with a boy who delivers food to the kitchens.

Papa was shocked. He put her into the carriage straightaway and drove her to a women’s academy in Nottinghamshire. ”

Elizabeth looked baffled. “Why Nottinghamshire?”

“The school is locked, located miles from the nearest town, and employs teachers who are specially trained to work with troubled students. Papa says girls from all walks of life attend, from daughters of dukes to daughters of tradesmen. They have one thing in common.”

Elizabeth answered, “Bad behavior?”

Jane nodded. “Yes. Lydia has been put to work as a scullery maid. The headmistress told both her and Papa that she may earn her way out of that task into other, less objectionable duties, but only by good conduct and diligence in her studies. If she receives poor marks or persists in rebellion, she will remain in the scullery all four years. Papa warned her that if he sees no improvement by the time she is nineteen, she will remain at school until she reaches twenty years. If she is still ungovernable at that age, he will find her a husband who intends to immigrate abroad. He wants her far from England, where her behavior cannot besmirch the family name. He is so resolute that he has even begun to set money aside for her dowry toward that end.”

Elizabeth pressed a hand to her lips. “Surely he did not speak so harshly to her?”

“He did,” Jane said, her eyes narrowed. “She sneered at him and said she would see about that. The headmistress, Mrs. Hendrickson, told Papa it was best if he left matters in her hands. She will write to him once a month with a full report. He is very concerned for Lydia, and though he blames Mamma, I cannot help but think the fault is also partially his. Lydia knew that neither of them would ever stand firm against her, and so she has grown very wild.”

Elizabeth looked bemused. “I had no idea our sister was so rebellious. I pray she will learn to comport herself. If she does not, she may end far worse than Caroline.”

Jane reached for her hand. “Let us hope that, in time, Lydia may yet be reclaimed.”

The sisters then retired to dress for dinner.

That evening, when the household assembled, Lady Helen placed the Stanton sisters, one on each side of her, and then asked Elizabeth to sit on the other side of Anise.

After the soup bowls had been collected, Lady Helen began. “Miss Stanton, tell me of your family. How many brothers and sisters have you?”

Abby responded in her bright way. “We are three in all. My elder brother Michael, my twin sister Anise, and I.”

“And your family? Would I know of them?”

Abby looked pensive. “Perhaps you may know my father’s family, Lady Helen, but it is unlikely, as my grandfather is a recluse.

My father was the third son of the Earl of Barrymore, Lord Thomas Stanton.

We have little to do with him, however, for he and my father had been estranged since my father’s marriage.

Grandfather wished him to marry a particular highborn lady, but my father was determined to marry for love.

He chose my mother, the daughter of a baronet.

He declared she was quite good enough for the third son of an earl.

They made a love match, and they were happy together all their days, until we lost Papa last year. ”

Lady Helen was pleased to discover that the Stanton sisters were well-connected. Excellent. Aloud, she said, “I am sorry for the loss of your father, Miss Abby. How is your mother bearing it?”

Abby shook her head. “Mother is terribly sad, of course, but Father had been ill for two years already, and he told my mother not to mourn him, for death would be a release from his pain.”

Lady Helen did not know how to continue after hearing the tragic response, so she turned to her plate and ate silently through the second course.

Darcy heard every word of the conversation and was stricken.

The blood drained from his face, and a sickness rose in him, and he feared he might be ill.

He was on the point of rising from the table when he caught Elizabeth’s questioning gaze.

She had raised an eyebrow and now watched him closely.

His stomach calmed, yet his mind slipped into the past. He was remembering his mother’s words as if they had been spoken yesterday.

She reminded him, even in her last hours, that he was the grandson of an earl.

It was her dying wish that he should choose a wife worthy of his station.

“Look around you, Fitzwilliam,” she had said, “seek a woman from a titled family, as your ancestors have done before you. A dowry is of little importance when weighed against bloodlines.”

When his father passed away and the responsibility of Pemberley fell upon Darcy at two and twenty, he carried her counsel with him.

Year after year, he endured the marriage mart during each London season, searching for a woman who might meet her standard, yet he never found one.

The women of his circle met his mother’s criteria, but they did not share his values.

Still, he could not lay aside his mother’s wish.

And here was Abby, granddaughter of an earl, beautiful, full-figured, and lively, so like Elizabeth in spirit, yet far above her in birth.

She was the wife he ought to have chosen.

She had been in the room when he was still unwed and searching.

He had married the wrong woman. Abby had been at the Meryton assembly.

He might have known her then, but his eyes were fixed only on Elizabeth, and in choosing her, he failed to fulfill his mother’s wish.

A heaviness settled in his chest, and the sickness returned.

He was bound to the wrong woman for the rest of his life.

His children would be born from the wrong woman, the woman whose connections were beneath his station.

When the third course was served, Lady Helen pressed on with another inquiry. “Tell me, what are your accomplishments, my dear?”

Abby colored a little. “I play the pianoforte very poorly, my lady. My main accomplishment is drawing. My music master quite despaired of me. Anise inherited all the musical talent. She plays beautifully, and her singing voice is exquisite.”

Lady Helen’s eyes flicked to the quiet twin, who was listening without adding a word.

So she has a voice, does she? But little else.

The quiet twin will not do, even though she is beautiful and voluptuous.

I know Phillip, and that will not be enough to hold his devotion through a lifetime of marriage.

The interview did not end until dinner was over.

Abby held nothing back. She answered every question, and Lady Helen learned that the family was close, affectionate, and loyal to one another.

Both sisters were fond of the countryside, and since they had not yet had a London Season, neither was known or tried by London society.