Page 23 of Raised at Rosings (Elizabeth and Darcy True Love Multiverse #4)
Chapter Twenty-Two
Darcy, still shaken from the scene with the woman who had been his aunt, felt a profound reluctance to release Elizabeth’s hand. While he knew he would have to let her go soon enough, he did not want to, might never want to. Running his thumb over her knuckles, Darcy marveled at just how delicate they were.
The air in Anne’s room was heavy with concern as Elizabeth watched her chest rise and fall, each slow breath labored, her pale lips parted slightly. The inescapable weight of grief seemed to settle over the room, suffocating any foolish hopes that Anne might be spared from her fate. Before confronting his aunt, they paid Anne a brief visit, but she remained unresponsive, her stillness unsettling. They were both aware of Anne’s impending death, yet it remained a difficult reality.
“Do you think she was hurt by me leaving without telling her?” sniffed Elizabeth tearfully.
Letting go of Elizabeth’s hand, Darcy instead wrapped his arm around her and murmured, “You know you did not have any choice in your disappearance. Besides, the staff adore her, and I am sure they ensured her comfort, anticipating her every need with every kindness.”
Anne, surprisingly, confirmed Darcy’s statement in a hushed whisper, “He is right, Lizzie. I was wonderfully taken care of.”
Rushing to the bed, Elizabeth hovered next to Anne and cried, “Oh, Anne, I am desperately sorry I have not been here for you as I wanted to.”
“The staff may have lied about your whereabouts, but I saw through their deception. I knew that mother was up to something.” Pausing to take a few gasping breaths, Anne added, “I had faith in you, though. I knew you would prevail… I was waiting for you to return.”
Darcy moved to stand behind Elizabeth as she sat on the edge of the bed next to Anne. His cousin looked up at them, her face pale and drawn, the dark circles under her eyes hinting at a life fading away. He placed his hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder, hoping to lend her strength for what was sure to come. “You’d be proud—Elizabeth saved herself.”
Smiling dreamily, Anne’s gaze became slightly out of focus as she said, “Of course she did. Elizabeth has always been remarkable.” She gasped, a ragged breath catching in her throat before a shaky sigh escaped.
Elizabeth looked up at Darcy, tears welling in her eyes, and Darcy longed to save her from her anguish. He knew there was nothing he could do to stop what he was sure was coming. They waited as Anne seemed to marshal her strength. In the heavy stillness of the room, Anne’s ragged gasps echoed, a stark and lonely sound.
Anne’s gaze flickered, then settled on Darcy. With a visible effort, she murmured, “You did not call Lizzie Miss Elizabeth.” The words, barely audible, seemed to catch slightly in her throat. Swallowing, she hummed under her breath and asked, “Have you finally admitted you are the perfect match?”
Chuckling mournfully, Elizabeth said, “Yes, he even went so far as to propose this morning.”
A faint smile touched Anne’s gaunt face, her eyes shining with an odd, joyful light as she nodded slightly. “That is good.” Gasping, she paused, breathing weakly before continuing, “I want you both to be happy, and I know you will be good to each other.”
They waited, almost breathing in time to Anne’s feeble breaths, sharing the quiet understanding that their time with Anne was nearing its end. Reaching up, Elizabeth clutched at Darcy’s hand where it rested on her shoulder, knowing he was just as desperate as she was for comfort in such a difficult time.
A rattling wheeze, like stones tumbling in a metal box, preceded Anne’s murmur. “Thank you for loving me so well,” she whispered, her voice trembling with the effort of each shallow breath. Anne’s eyes fluttered closed, and she only managed two more struggling breaths before they ceased altogether.
Turning away from Anne’s still body, Elizabeth curled into Darcy’s chest, gripping the fabric of his waistcoat as she sobbed. There was nothing he could do but hold her to him, hoping that the release of tears would ease some of her sorrow. Despite his affection for his cousin, his relationship paled in comparison to the profound closeness Elizabeth shared with her, having lived with and nurtured her throughout most of her life. The years of shared experiences created an unbreakable bond that was now severed by death.
They mourned together, neither speaking until the door to the room opened and Aunt Judith walked in silently. Her eyes swept across the scene, taking in every detail, before she gave a small nod and a bittersweet smile. “Then the poor girl is finally free of her suffering,” she whispered, the words heavy with finality.
Her steps were soft as she approached the bed and, smoothing back Anne’s hair, she kissed her brow. Then, turning to Darcy and Elizabeth, she said, “I will manage everything that is needed.” Taking Elizabeth’s hand, Aunt Judith added, “That woman is gone, but I believe you would be better off at Matlock House than here, and I am sure that Darcy can take you.”
Nodding, Elizabeth stood unsteadily, and Darcy was quick to grasp her by the elbow, making sure she did not fall. Offering his arm, Darcy turned to go but was stopped by his aunt as she said, “Make sure that Jane puts Elizabeth to bed. She has had too many upheavals in her life in a short period of time and could do with rest to regather her strength and composure. I will stay with Anne and help the staff prepare her for burial.”
Aunt Judith moved to the bell-pull as Darcy walked out of the room with Elizabeth on his arm. Elizabeth was too quiet for his tastes and Darcy was eager to follow his aunt’s instructions. The heavy oak stairs groaned softly under their weight as they descended, and in the quiet of the old house, Darcy discovered his uncle and Richard in earnest conversation within the book-lined study. It was simple enough to explain what had happened before he took Elizabeth and left de Bourgh House. Their recent victory against Catherine de Bourgh and the love he shared with Elizabeth could not overshadow the gravity of the situation; it was not a time for joy. They were a family in mourning and for a time, things would be somber.
Elizabeth blinked owlishly at the celling and tried to recall what she had planned for the day. It was not the easiest task. The last several days had been a blur of activity even as they dealt with Anne’s passing. Aunt Judith had insisted for Jane and Elizabeth to join her in attending a dressmaker to have new dresses made up for their time of mourning. Elizabeth was too numb to realize her aunt had also ordered several dresses of half-mourning for her as well. So at least she had the proper attire to don once she woke sufficiently.
There had been what seemed to be a ceaseless stream of callers at Matlock House offering their condolences. It was a kindness that Elizabeth had not exactly expected, having lived so isolated from society at large. Anne had not been known by anyone of consequence but that did not mean people would ignore the grief of an earl and his countess. It had at least allowed Elizabeth to be introduced to a few of the young ladies her age who were friendly with Jane.
The somber day of Anne’s funeral had come and gone. Though barred from the burial itself, deemed too fragile for public mourning, the ladies of the community gathered at Matlock House, a silent, supportive presence for the bereaved family. Life was fragile and everyone had lost someone, be it parent, sibling, child, or even niece or nephew, and they shared tales of prior happiness or encouragement for the future. At times they were just a silent bulwark, there to add their presence to the gathering. As if the grief of one could be supported and lessened by the presence of many. Elizabeth found it fascinating to observe the mourning customs that bound women together in shared grief, the quiet strength in their collective sorrow palpable.
Elizabeth dragged her feet from under the covers and let them dangle off the side of the bed. Somehow, it felt like a good morning even knowing that Anne was no longer part of her life. Grief had left her numb for so long that she had barely been able to respond to the support that William had been offering. He was wonderful enough to let her know he did not mind that she had little strength to do anything but grieve by saying, “Just as there is a time to be joyful, there is a time to grieve. For now, we grieve. Just so long as you do not forget there will come a time when we will once again be joyful together.”
Smiling, Elizabeth slid to the ground, wiggling her toes on the polished wood floor before moving to pull her bell-pull. She had her very own lady’s maid now. The shift from self-reliance to Jemma’s help was jarring, yet Elizabeth genuinely liked her, despite Jemma’s persistent reminders to use her last name, Morris—a formality Elizabeth consistently ignored.
Having remembered that she would be visiting the law office of Mr. Crampton, Elizabeth resolved to wear one of her simpler gowns in lavender and gray, appropriate for half-mourning. Her birthday had passed in the midst of their deep mourning for Anne and the barrister had requested that she attend a meeting with him and Mr. Darcy’s barrister. William would also be in attendance as well as Richard and Jemma, for that matter. Aunt Judith had been adamant about not being seen alone with William. Which made a certain amount of sense. Elizabeth might have only shared one true kiss with the man, but the lingering sweetness of it, the gentle pressure of his lips against hers, told her it was an experience she’d crave again and again.
The clinking of china announced Jemma’s arrival as she entered the room with an energetic grace and a tray piled high in her arms. “Good morning, Miss Elizabeth,” she chirped. “How are you this morning? Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, Jemma, I had a very good night’s sleep,” Elizabeth confirmed, feeling the energy building within her, “and I am ready to tackle another busy day. I think the dress I have set out will do the trick.”
With a shake of her head, Jemma presented Elizabeth with her perfectly brewed tea, the fragrant steam curling upwards, and placed a flaky pastry on the nearby side table. Pouring water into the basin so that Elizabeth could wash her face before she dressed, Jemma chided, “You know you do not have to get out the dress yourself, and that you really should refer to me as Morris, Miss.”
After taking a sip of her tea, Elizabeth put the delicate teacup down with a chuckle, and moved to the porcelain basin. Pushing up her sleeves, she said, “And you know I have compromised by referring to you as Morris in public. Besides, I enjoy looking through my own clothes to choose what to wear. If there comes a time when I am too out of sorts to pick my own clothes, you can do it, but until then I am perfectly capable.”
When Elizabeth picked her face up from the water, Jemma was there with a smile on her face and a towel in her hands. They truly were a good match and got along well, despite Elizabeth’s notions of independence. In no time at all, Elizabeth was dressed and ready, the silk of her dress rustling as she descended the stairs, Jemma trailing quietly behind.
Waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs was William, a smile on his face as he watched her descend. Tilting her head, Elizabeth stopped, not at the bottom of the stairs, but high enough so their faces were on the same level. With a smile that was wider than most she had worn recently, she asked, “Have you chosen to ride with Richard and me?”
Eyes dancing with a hint of mischief, William explained, “I thought it made little sense to take separate carriages when I was only just across the courtyard.”
“I suppose that does make more sense,” Elizabeth replied with a nod, “though I suspect Richard might look forward to ribbing you once again.”
With a grin, William said, “He may make fun of me as much as he likes, so long as I get to bask in your presence. Besides, turnabout is fair play, and he will have to fall in love at some point.” Offering Elizabeth his arm, he asked, “Would you care to join me in the morning room for a cup of coffee while we wait for Richard to ready himself?”
Elizabeth’s hand rested lightly on William’s arm as she descended the last stair, and once beside the man she loved, she smiled and said, “It would be my pleasure to spend time with you, though if you make my coffee wrong, I will make you prepare it again.”
It seemed to Darcy that all barristers must prefer offices of the same sort, that or the profession required similar tools of the trade. The heavy mahogany desk, its polished surface gleaming under the soft light, the worn leather chairs, and the air of quiet competence, all mirrored the atmosphere of Darcy’s own barrister’s chambers. Once everyone was settled in their seats across from Mr. Crampton, the gentleman picked up a stack of papers in his hands and began to tap them on the table. “Thank you for coming today, Miss Elizabeth. I see you have brought both Richard Fitzwilliam, Fitzwilliam Darcy, and Mr. Darcy’s barrister, Mr. Bailey.”
Perfectly at ease beside Darcy, Elizabeth smiled and replied, “Yes, sir. The earl was unable to attend today due to a meeting at Parliament, but as I was his ward, he asked that I bring Richard along with me. And I believe we spoke of Mr. Bailey seeing to my legal rights when last we spoke. As for Mr. Darcy, we became engaged shortly before Anne de Bourgh’s passing and I felt it was best to bring him.”
“Then all is in order. I do, however, want to first convey my sympathy. I know you were very close to Anne de Bourgh and her death was a great loss to you.” Pausing, Mr. Crampton’s expression shifted from a somber one to a large smile as he added, “It seems congratulations are certainly due as well, for a union between you and Mr. Darcy can only result in a lifetime of shared happiness and success, a partnership built on mutual respect and affection.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth murmured, a delicate blush rising on her cheeks as she stole a shy glance at Darcy, before adding softly, “we have every hope of a perfectly happy future.”
Though he nodded along to Mr. Crampton and Elizabeth’s conversation, a knot of tension was developing behind one of his shoulder blades. He had to restrain himself from bouncing his leg in frustration, waiting for Mr. Crampton to get to the point. Darcy had to admit he was probably more curious than Elizabeth in regard to the mysterious codicil, and that curiosity was killing him.
As if noting the slight twitch in Darcy’s foot, Mr. Crampton said, “Well then, let us get on with the contents of the codicil.” Mr. Crampton meticulously arranged the items on his desk, a silent ritual that seemed to emphasize his next words. “While Miss Elizabeth did not receive anything significant in Sir Lewis’s will, the codicil provides for her quite effectively. Sir Lewis’s letter, entrusted to me for Miss Elizabeth, provides a concise summation of the matter.”
With that, he handed over a sheet of paper folded in half to Elizabeth. For a moment, she simply held it out in front of her, studying it with wide, rapidly moistening eyes. Then, looking at Darcy sitting beside her, she took a breath and unfolded it, holding it so that they could both read it. Darcy recognized his uncle’s hand immediately in the crisp, clean lines of the writing, a familiar style he’d come to expect in the correspondence from the kind man. The message did not even take up the full length of the page, but still Darcy knew whatever it said would have a tremendous impact on Elizabeth. Leaning in, Darcy squeezed Elizabeth’s free hand in encouragement before he silently began reading.
My dear girl, I know that by the time this letter reaches you I will have been long dead and most likely you will have lost Anne as well. I want to apologize for abandoning you as I did. If I could have managed to stay, I would have. You must know that your arrival in my life made it so much better. You brought joy and enthusiasm back into a life that had grown dull and, more than that, you brought joy to Anne’s life. Please know that my feelings of gratitude are far deeper than I can possibly express.
I know unequivocally that I will pass soon, and I am doing all I can to ensure you are well provided for. If my shrewish wife makes your life difficult without me to restrain her, I trust Reginald will invite you into his home. Please do not hesitate to go. The Fitzwilliams love you nearly as much as I do. Reginald has also said he will provide a dowry for you, but that is what he is giving you, and I feel the need to provide for you as well. While I am not leaving you a monetary amount, I have done something else to provide for you.
When I found you and Jane so long ago, I began a search for your family, just in case you had people who were looking for you. I learned that you came from an estate named Longbourn in a small town named Meryton. Your father’s second cousin took it over upon his death but died soon after. Sadly, his only child, a son, was by all reports a fool and ran the estate into the ground, eventually reducing the estate to financial ruin. As he had no male heirs, the entail was broken. So I dispatched a trusted agent to make a significantly undervalued offer on the estate. Longbourn is now yours.
Careful management has brought the estate back around, though it still does not produce as much as it could. Longbourn is your birthright, and it is yours to do with as you wish. The increase to your dowry will be substantial, removing any anxieties about securing a suitable husband and offering you a greater degree of independence and comfort.
I want only the best for you, my dear. Recall our time together fondly, not with sadness. Find a life brimming with happiness and only settle down with a husband who will cherish and support you, adding to your joy. Go forth and be the amazing woman I know you are, radiating the kindness and brilliance that first touched my heart.
With all of my love,
Uncle Lewis
Upon seeing Elizabeth in tears, the letter falling to her lap as she covered her face, Darcy understood she’d finished reading the letter. Folding it carefully, Darcy moved the letter to the desk and, after handing her a handkerchief, gathered her in his arms. In a few moments, she had herself back under control and, taking a few deep, shuddering breaths, she asked Mr. Crampton, “Is there anything else that I need to be aware of besides receiving Longbourn from Uncle Lewis?”
Smiling wryly, Mr. Crampton cleared his throat and said, “Anne, before her passing, instructed me to inform you when you came to learn of the codicil that she desired her dowry to be shared equally by you and Mr. Richard Fitzwilliam. Her dowry was forty thousand pounds. I have the paperwork here, if you’d like Mr. Bailey to review it.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened for a moment, then looking up at Darcy, she asked, “Were you in need of padding Pemberley’s coffers? I think between what Uncle Reggie has set aside for my dowry and what Anne has done, my dowry will amount to thirty-five thousand pounds.”
Speaking up for the first time from his chair where he looked over all the paperwork that Mr. Crampton had given him, Mr. Bailey said, “Do not forget Longbourn is part of that dowry, and according to this paperwork, should you want to sell it, it would bring in something close to one hundred thousand pounds. Under sound management, the past few years have yielded impressive results and hefty profits that were just put back into the property. It is the most prosperous estate in the area.”
Darcy could only stare at Elizabeth, who had turned pale at the information. He had never imagined Elizabeth could have such a dowry at her disposal. Uncle Lewis had been right—she would not even have to marry if she did not truly want to, she was set for life. Drawing his attention away from Elizabeth, Richard burst into laughter and exclaimed, “It is a good thing you are already engaged! Lizzie will be the wealthiest debutante of the season. Even engaged, she is going to have any number of gentlemen chasing after her for her wealth.”
Darcy might have begun to worry if Elizabeth did not immediately say, “How soon do you think Aunt Judith will allow us to marry? There is no way I will allow myself to be pursued like a fox in a hunt when my heart already belongs to someone so extraordinary.”