Page 25 of It Taught Me to Hope

O n the day of the planned dinner at Breckonridge, the residents of Longbourn estate prepared for the gathering, each eager to make Colonel Fitzwilliam’s acquaintance. Curious as they were, Elizabeth had spent an agreeable time with her sisters, regaling them with tales of the colonel’s character, his background, and everything she could remember of the man. Kitty was, even at three and twenty, still entranced with tales of dashing officers, for in this she had not changed in the interim. Where Kitty had grown was that her interest did not lead her to sigh and exclaim her love of a man of the scarlet—instead, she was much more restrained, listening with interest and eagerness to make his acquaintance with none of the wildness she had displayed when running amok with Lydia.

“Lizzy,” said Kitty that morning after they rose, “may I speak to you for a moment?”

“Of course, Kitty,” said Elizabeth.

Appearing a little abashed, Kitty said: “Martin must return to Woodleigh on the morrow, for he received word of a problem he must attend to.” Kitty paused and shrugged. “As you know, we have no steward, for the estate will not support the expense.”

“I cannot say otherwise, Kitty,” said Elizabeth, “but after Papa passed away, I learned Longbourn would support far more than I had thought. Enough of that. If you wish to stay at Longbourn, we should be happy to have you.”

Relief settled over her sister. “I would like that very much.”

“Then it is settled. If Martin wishes to return when he has resolved the problem, he is welcome to do so. If not, I shall send you home in Longbourn’s carriage when the time comes.”

Kitty grinned, appearing like the girl she had been six years earlier. “Thank you, Lizzy. I shall inform my husband.”

Though Kitty’s husband was noncommittal, Elizabeth suspected he would remain at Woodleigh, for Kitty would only stay for another two weeks. Martin Westbrook was a good sort of man, but he was like their father in essentials as he preferred his home to traveling to other locations and, unlike Mr. Bennet, doted over his small family. Elizabeth liked the man and thought he was good for her sister, but she would enjoy Kitty’s company so long as she remained in Hertfordshire.

That evening, the Bennets entered Longbourn’s carriage—the six travelers reminiscing about the many times Elizabeth and her sisters had crowded into the carriage with their mother, their father sitting with the driver on the box—to make their way to Mr. Darcy’s leased estate. It was a small property, perhaps two-thirds the size of Longbourn, not so diverse, and the house smaller, its décor more dated. At one time, the notion of the gentleman enduring such accommodations would have struck Elizabeth as impossible; the moment Elizabeth caught sight of him, however, the place seemed to fit him, for all she did not suppose he would renew the lease when it expired. Breckonridge was nothing more than a convenient place from which to conduct his courting, after all.

“Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Darcy, stepping forward to greet her at once. “How pleased I am to welcome you tonight.”

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth gave the gentleman a saucy smirk. “Before we become carried away with our greeting, my family is impatient to make the acquaintance of your cousin. Shall we not introduce them and calm their enthusiasm?”

“If Darcy is pleased to welcome you,” said the man in question, stepping forward to clasp Elizabeth’s hand, “I am doubly so. How do you do, Miss Bennet?”

“Very well, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” said Elizabeth. “The thought of our meeting once again was beyond my expectation.”

“That is true,” said the colonel. “But I would ask you to refer to me as ‘Mr. Fitzwilliam,’ for I left soldiering behind several years ago.”

“Perhaps that is true. However, it is my understanding that an officer in His Majesty’s army keeps the title even after he puts aside the uniform.”

“Aye, that is the truth,” agreed the colonel. “I have no claim to such pretension and am not inclined to consider those days to any great extent.”

Elizabeth laughed. “Then Mr. Fitzwilliam you shall be.”

As Mr. Darcy did the honors, introducing his cousin to all Elizabeth’s family, Elizabeth stood to the side, taking advantage of the opportunity to observe the colonel. He was, she noted, in essentials the same man he had been when she met him in Kent. As she had observed many times, his character was akin to Mr. Bingley’s, for he was garrulous and open, lightening the atmosphere with a quick joke or an amused chuckle. In moments, the approbation of Elizabeth’s family could not be mistaken, for no one could dislike such an amiable man.

“Mrs. Edwards,” said he when he greeted Jane. “Your sister told me much of you when I made her acquaintance in Kent.”

Jane’s eyes found Elizabeth. “Yes, I can imagine she did.”

“I also offer my condolences for your loss,” said he, seeing her mourning attire.

“Thank you, colonel,” said Jane with nary a hint of emotion. “My husband passed away only two weeks ago.”

“Ah,” said the colonel. “Then you returned to accept the care and attention of your sisters.”

“That I have. They are a great blessing to me.”

“Jane was of a mind to decline tonight’s invitation,” said Elizabeth. “Fortunately for us all, I persuaded her to attend.”

The colonel understood the meaning underneath Elizabeth’s observations and Jane’s composure, though he was too much of a gentleman to say anything on the subject. Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth suspected, would have told him something of Jane’s previous situation, so even if he was inclined to pry, he already had all the salient facts.

As the company sat together, Elizabeth observed Colonel Fitzwilliam and Jane, who had taken chairs next to each other. Curious, Elizabeth watched them, interested to see how they would get on. Given Mr. Fitzwilliam’s character was so like Mr. Bingley’s, Elizabeth had wondered if Jane would find him as agreeable as Mr. Bingley, but in this instance, she could draw no conclusions. Jane was reticent as she always was, and she spoke to him with perfect composure. If there were any signs of incipient admiration, she could see nothing of it. That was just as well, of course, given Jane’s newly bereaved status.

“Tell me, Mr. Fitzwilliam,” blurted Kitty after they remained in this attitude for some moments, “are you truly a colonel?”

“ Was a colonel, Mrs. Westbrook,” said Mr. Fitzwilliam. “When I met your sister, I was a colonel in the cavalry. I saw action in the final battle against the French tyrant.”

Kitty regarded him through wide eyes, much to the amusement of the company. “I never met a man who claimed such an honor.”

“If honor it was,” said the colonel, “I cannot say those who took part feel it as such. The war is over, and for that, I am grateful, for it is not a pleasant business.

“No, do not apologize,” said Mr. Fitzwilliam when Kitty, flushing scarlet, tried to offer her regrets. “Those who have not experienced war have only an imprecise notion of what it entails. Those who have understand it is a poor way to resolve differences. So long as there are imperfect men in the world, I do not suppose it will ever cease. I hope, however, that my involvement in it is at an end.”

“Well said, Mr. Fitzwilliam,” said Mr. Hardwick. “Well said, indeed.”

Thereafter, the company turned to other topics. Had it been Kitty and Lydia of the past, Elizabeth could imagine them demanding stories of the colonel’s exploits, persisting long after he tired of the subject. Kitty, mindful of her near faux pas, listened with interest and gave her opinion when warranted, though she gave Mr. Fitzwilliam no particular attention. For a time, the company sat in companionable conversation, those who were more forthright carrying the burden, though all enjoyed it.

“Tell me, Mr. Fitzwilliam,” said Elizabeth, “how is Lady Catherine? I understand you are closest to her ladyship and can offer the most recent and accurate intelligence of her doings.”

Mr. Fitzwilliam regarded her, his lips trembling with mirth. “Miss Bennet, I must reprimand you for raising a most objectionable subject. Did Darcy not tell you that I fled from Kent to escape her ladyship for a time?”

“I did, Fitzwilliam,” said Mr. Darcy, enjoying the exchange. “You cannot fault Miss Bennet for her curiosity, which is seasoned with no little mirth, I judge. As for the rest of our guests, they have never made the lady’s acquaintance, but our tales of her have filled them with no little curiosity.”

“Aye, I can imagine it,” laughed the colonel. “Lady Catherine is well so far as I am aware, Miss Bennet. As you might suspect, I try to limit the occasions when I must endure her, for though she is my aunt, she is most objectionable.”

“What an abominable thing to say of your aunt!” cried Elizabeth. “Do you not know that Lady Catherine is the wisest, most caring, intelligent, and stupendous lady in all the land? Why, I have this from no less an authority than the late Mr. Collins, which supports what I heard from the lady herself!”

The company released their hilarity at Elizabeth’s comment, though Mr. Fitzwilliam’s contained a rueful quality.

“Yes, I can imagine what Mr. Collins said of her. Having made her acquaintance yourself, I cannot imagine he misled you with his sycophantic mutterings.”

“Perhaps he was a little fervent.”

“Only a little,” was the colonel’s dry reply. “Mr. Collins was already gone from Rosings by the time I inherited the estate from Anne, so I did not need to endure him. To this day, Lady Catherine laments his passing, for he was the finest parson she installed in Hunsford.”

“Was he?” asked Elizabeth.

“Oh, he was her favorite, for never was a man so eager to do her bidding with so little prompting. The only time Aunt Catherine was angry with him was the few occasions when he assumed her wishes and mistook them. Lady Catherine is not the sort of woman who wishes a man to possess any sort of autonomy or judgment, for that is her domain and she possesses an ample supply of those traits.”

Elizabeth laughed. “I can well imagine it. Does that mean she does not appreciate the current incumbent of Hunsford?”

“To say that is a vast understatement. When I inherited, the man she had installed was a sycophant, though not so fervent as Mr. Collins. Fortunately, I persuaded him that his fortune lay in another parish, and when he was gone, I appointed Mr. Thorpe to the position.”

“Can I suppose Thorpe is not to Lady Catherine’s taste?” asked Mr. Darcy.

“Again, you understate the matter, Darcy,” said Mr. Fitzwilliam, enjoying the banter. “When I brought Mr. Thorpe to Hunsford, I informed him how Lady Catherine would act, and he believed me. He listens to her ladyship when she feels the need to pontificate, but he ignores her instructions unless he is uncertain. As I am unlike Lady Catherine, those occasions are rare.

“It is fortunate for us all that Lady Catherine rarely sees the need to ensure he acts on her instructions as she designed. In this, I suspect she is much happier than she might have been, and my hearing is preserved. Lady Catherine has a piercing voice, especially when she fancies herself displeased.”

“This must all be hyperbole!” exclaimed Mary. “No one could be so...”

“Oblivious?” asked Elizabeth. “Tactless? Convinced of their infallibility? Trust me, Mary, if you had made the lady’s acquaintance, you would understand.”

“Do not doubt your sister in this matter, Mrs. Hardwick,” said Mr. Darcy. “My aunt is larger than life and, in some ways, even more ridiculous than she suggests.”

“When I visited Kent,” said Elizabeth, “we were the fortunate recipients of Lady Catherine’s attention. If you ask Charlotte, she will regale you with tales about how Lady Catherine was the mistress of Mr. Collins’s home, how she instructed them in everything from shelves in the closet to how much meat they must purchase.”

Elizabeth turned to Mr. Fitzwilliam. “Does she take so much interest in your management of Rosings Park?”

“She might,” replied he, “if I had not instructed her to desist.”

“Thereafter,” continued Elizabeth, turning back to her family, “Lady Catherine proved her love of being of use to others by explaining how she had placed a young woman with an acquaintance, I presume as a companion, and then was kind enough to instruct me regarding my playing.”

Georgiana huffed at the notion, and Elizabeth grinned at her. “Might I suppose you also received her wisdom on that subject?”

“Not often, for which I am grateful. I take care to avoid Aunt Catherine whenever I can, which has limited the occasions she can instruct me. The most amusing—or exasperating—part of Lady Catherine’s instructions is that she does not know one note from another, for she never learned.”

“But if she had,” said Elizabeth, only able to speak through her laughter by the barest margin, “she would have been a great proficient, celebrated in all London!”

Mr. Darcy, his sister, and his cousin all laughed, their knowing demeanors proof to Elizabeth’s family that they were not exaggerating. Mary still looked at them with a kind of wonder, though she did not disbelieve their account.

“Then it is fortunate I did not follow through with my inclination,” said Mary when their mirth subsided. “For a time, seeing you did not welcome Mr. Collins’s attentions, I thought to turn him to me.”

“Oh, Mary,” said Elizabeth, shaking her head with affection. “Please allow me to say how gratified I am that you did not attempt to capture Mr. Collins’s attention. I like the husband you have now much better than I ever endured Mr. Collins.”

“As do I, Lizzy,” said Mary, an affectionate gaze passing between husband and wife. “As do I.”

“This is all very well,” said Mr. Fitzwilliam, “but I would not pass the evening speaking of my cantankerous aunt, though her antics are amusing. We have not met in six years, Miss Bennet; I should like to hear of how you occupied yourself.”

As the call to dinner came soon thereafter, the company repaired to the dining-room, the arrangement as informal as any Elizabeth had ever seen. Each of Elizabeth’s brothers-in-law escorted their wives, Elizabeth on Mr. Darcy’s arm, while Mr. Fitzwilliam took the duty of escorting both Jane and Georgiana. There they continued the conversation, exchanging some news of the past years, those previously unknown to each other becoming better acquainted. Among the most interesting accounts was how Mr. Fitzwilliam was faring as a gentleman when he had never thought to inherit.

“It is a different life, to be certain,” mused he. The dining-room in Breckonridge was small, in keeping with the size of the house, such that they could all speak together more easily than they might have in the large chamber in Netherfield Park. “When I was a young man, I could not imagine such a sedate life.”

Mr. Darcy snorted. “As I recall, you declared it was foolish to wish to rot away on an estate, for a man would grow moss if he stayed in one place all his life.”

“That is a particular trait of younger sons,” said Mr. Westbrook. “My younger brother was the same.”

“Did he join the army or ply his trade in the navy?” asked Mr. Fitzwilliam.

“Neither. His discontent with our simple life was so great that once he graduated from university as our father required, he took the small inheritance my father set aside for him and crossed the ocean into the New World. I have not had word from him in all the time of my marriage; I suspect I shall never see him again.”

“That is curious, for I have a great uncle who was the same, though many years ago. After a time, he settled down in New York and became a successful banker.”

Mr. Westbrook nodded. “Though I struggle to consider my brother in such terms, it is possible he may settle someday. His intention when he left was to push into the western part of the continent, so I doubt he will stay in one place, and it will not be the former colonies if he does.”

Mr. Fitzwilliam nodded and returned his attention to Elizabeth. “It was an adjustment, but after my time in the army, I found it was a welcome one. My father gave me some training when I was a lad, so I had a foundation on which to build. Thereafter, my father and brother assisted when they could, and I have become comfortable in the work since then.”

“Not Mr. Darcy?” asked Elizabeth, regarding her suitor with a feigned expression of innocence.

The colonel chortled, but it was Mr. Darcy who spoke. “Remember, Miss Bennet, that I am a persona non grata at Rosings, for I used my aunt most cruelly in refusing to marry her daughter.”

“What of Lady Catherine?” asked Elizabeth. “I cannot imagine that she was not bursting to impart her wisdom in everything you did. Why, the lady managed Rosings for years and must be the foremost authority in Kent on such subjects!”

“Which is why the finances of the estate were in shambles, the tenants restless, and the servants were in a state of near revolt.”

“Come now, Fitzwilliam,” said Mr. Darcy, “in this I know you overstate matters. Lady Catherine hired no servants who would not worship the very ground upon which she walked.”

“Some of the stories I could tell would surprise you, Darcy.” Mr. Fitzwilliam turned back to his recitation. “There were issues on the estate and my management style differs from Lady Catherine’s. Now that several years have passed and I changed much of the workings of the estate to reflect my preferences, the estate does well because of it.”

“That is excellent news,” replied Elizabeth. “Absent from your account is any mention of a wife. Are you still inhabiting that regrettable state of lacking an heir for your property?”

“Why, Miss Bennet?” asked the colonel, appearing the languid gentleman. “Are you interested in the position?”

Elizabeth looked to Mr. Darcy, noting him watching the exchange showing outward congeniality. Inside, Elizabeth was certain the gentleman had not appreciated the turn in the conversation, for a certain tension hovered about him. Perhaps this was Mr. Fitzwilliam’s way of teasing his cousin, the familiarity between them showing him how it was to be done, or Mr. Darcy may have seen more in the conversation than either Elizabeth or his cousin intended. While the gentleman had professed his contentment and acceptance of whatever happened between them, any suggestion that she might prefer his cousin such that he must endure her as his cousin’s wife rather than his own must be unwelcome. Thus, Elizabeth thought to put him at ease.

“I suppose that since you now possess an estate, an heiress possessing fifty thousand pounds is not a requirement in a woman you marry.”

“That it is not, Miss Bennet.”

“While in other circumstances your situation might tempt me, I shall decline.” Elizabeth turned a smile on Mr. Darcy, who returned it with a softness Elizabeth knew he often reserved for her. “At present, I must concentrate on Mr. Darcy, for he has given me compelling reasons to consider his suit. Should your cousin decide I am unsuitable or not what he wishes to find in a wife, perhaps I shall consider you.”

“Trust me, Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Fitzwilliam, “I would do nothing to diminish my cousin’s happiness. If he succeeds, he will be a fortunate man.”

“And I will be a fortunate woman.”

At that moment, while the company continued to speak around them, Elizabeth had eyes for only Mr. Darcy and the gentleman had no attention to spare for any other. They remained together for the rest of the evening, only separating with the greatest reluctance when Elizabeth and her party returned to Longbourn.

––––––––

“I APOLOGIZE, COUSIN ,” said Fitzwilliam, eyeing Darcy as he sipped his brandy. “I did not intend my exchange with Miss Bennet to tease or vex you with any supposed interest I had in her.”

Darcy, who had been staring into the fire, looked up and shrugged. “Do not concern yourself. I know your character well enough to understand you would not hesitate to sport with me; I did not suspect you of anything untoward.”

Fitzwilliam regarded Darcy; by now there were few secrets between them. Darcy had always kept his feelings to himself, holding them close even when confronted by a cousin who was as good as a brother. Yet, Fitzwilliam had seen something in Darcy these past years, a hesitancy he had never thought to witness in the other man’s character. When she refused him, Miss Bennet had broken something deep inside Darcy. It was only now, six years later, that he was healing from that wound, the hurt retreating from the overwhelming sense of pleasure he received from Miss Bennet’s approval and, unless Fitzwilliam missed his guess, her burgeoning love.

She was an exceptional woman, Fitzwilliam reflected, and one he would have been delighted to favor with his affection in the hope she would return it. Fitzwilliam had never told his cousin—would never, under any circumstances reveal it—but he had toyed a time or two in the past few years with the notion of approaching her. As the years lengthened between them and Darcy seemed little inclined or capable of bridging the gap between them, Fitzwilliam had thought it possible he might earn her favor.

Something always kept him back, and he now knew it was his knowledge of how any success Fitzwilliam had with Miss Bennet would rupture his cousin’s heart beyond all repair. A part of him regretted the impossibility of a life with her, for Fitzwilliam’s opinion of Miss Bennet was as high as Darcy’s was, for all Fitzwilliam did not believe he was in love with her. The overwhelming majority of his heart and mind, however, knew he could never have betrayed Darcy so, and could not have even if he had found himself deeply in love with her. It was Fitzwilliam’s fondest wish that she would accept Darcy and make his life complete, for Darcy deserved all the happiness he could find.

“Given what I witnessed at dinner,” said Fitzwilliam, “can I assume matters are proceeding well between you?”

“As well as I have any right to expect. Georgiana adores her and esteems her sisters, and I will confess that my admiration for her back in Kent was a pale imitation of what I feel for her now.”

“Excellent, Darcy. I shall stay a while and accept your generous invitation. Perhaps with my assistance, you can prevail.”

That got Darcy’s attention, as Fitzwilliam had known it would. “I thank you, Fitzwilliam, but I have everything well in hand.”

“Is a proposal imminent?”

Darcy shrugged. “I hardly know. At present, I am content to wait and watch. When the time comes, I shall recognize it and act. Until then, there is nowhere I would rather be than here with her.”

“You are a lost man, Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam, shaking his head. “I have known it for a long time, but never has it seemed so obvious as it does now.”

Darcy drained his glass and stood. “If this bliss is akin to being adrift, then there is no better place to be. You should try it, Fitzwilliam, for it is quite rewarding.”

As Darcy excused himself and departed for his bedchamber, Fitzwilliam had to agree with him—there appeared to be benefits to Darcy’s situation. In the previous years in which he had been engaged on the estate, Fitzwilliam had not thought to marry, for he did not feel he was comfortable enough with the estate to pull his attention away so much as to allow him to search for a wife. Now he was much more at ease. It was time, he thought, to follow Darcy into that state of matrimonial bliss. All he needed to do was find the right woman.