Page 6 of Raised at Rosings (Elizabeth and Darcy True Love Multiverse #4)

Chapter Five

Three and a half years later

The boundary between numbness and pain was blurry, leaving her unsure of where one sensation started and the other ended. Elizabeth appreciated when she was able to embrace the numbness. It allowed her to keep going. Despite the grief that Elizabeth felt lost in at times, she knew that there were things to do; she did not have the privilege of collapsing.

Even just overseeing the household required more than Lady Catherine was willing to comply with. She had always viewed responsibility that was something below her. Despite knowing that there was a competent housekeeper, Elizabeth knew that she still needed things to be approved and arranged. Even at only seventeen, Elizabeth knew that Uncle Lewis’s death left many responsibilities to her. Because, of course, Lady Catherine would not oversee the upcoming harvest, nor did she care about the tenants’ ability to survive the winter.

Not long after Uncle Lewis called for Richard and Mr. Darcy, he started instructing her in far more than she imagined she would ever need to know about running an estate. Now with his recent death, it all made sense. Knowing his wife's tendencies and Anne's fragile health, Uncle Lewis understood that Elizabeth would be the one left to bear the brunt of all the responsibilities.

Elizabeth had been knowledgeable enough to be able to step up when Uncle Lewis became bedridden six months ago. Despite her youth, the staff quickly turned to her for any and all needs. Even before he was bed bound, Uncle Lewis could not move about much at all, and so Elizabeth had done his walking for him inspecting thatching after the storms and speaking with the steward and housekeeper and even the tenants for him.

Elizabeth ran her hands down the smooth fabric of her black dress as she made her way to her uncle’s study. She needed to get his account book if she was to go over expenses with the housekeeper that afternoon. Nearing her destination, the sound of raised voices in the study made her slow her pace; a nervous feeling tightening in her chest. The study was supposed to be empty. Curious, Elizabeth approached carefully.

“This is not to be born! How dare you say that Rosings is not mine to direct, mine to control!” It was easy to recognize Lady Catherine’s voice.

The second voice, more timid and unfamiliar, responded in a hesitant and servile manner. “While you have been severely wronged, my lady, your deceased husband, insured that his will was irrefutable. Rosings goes to your daughter, Anne. Should she pass before she is twenty-five or remain unmarried at thirty, Rosings then goes to your nephew Richard. You are not in the line of inheritance.”

“I did not marry that fool for nothing. I am mistress of this estate, and I will continue to be so. It is your responsibility to see that it happens,” came Lady Catherine’s callous demand.

Elizabeth cast furtive glances around, ensuring her presence went unnoticed as she covertly listened in on the crucial argument. Sneaking over to the nearby window, Elizabeth slipped behind the thick brocade curtains. Ugly as they were, Elizabeth acknowledged their potential as the ideal cover for her eavesdropping.

“I understand, my lady. That is why I bribed the clerk to see your husband’s will.” Elizabeth pictured the subservient man bowing and scraping before Lady Catherine. In all the years Elizabeth had known the woman, she had never seen her choose to work with anyone who had a backbone.

Lady Catherine huffed, “Why can you not switch his will with one that is more suitable?”

“My Lady, even if the clerk would be willing to allow it, multiple copies of the will were made up and sent to various people, your brother among them. Any forgery would be easily spotted.” Pausing, the timid voice hesitantly added, “I do have an idea, though.”

“Now, out with it!”

“Although your daughter has officially inherited, the staff and she herself would need to know for her to behave as mistress. Suppose she is not at the reading of the will? Your daughter is not in the most robust health after all. You could offer to attend on her behalf and convey whatever information you deem necessary.” Alarmed by the man’s outrageousness, Elizabeth’s hand shot to her mouth, stifling a gasp.

There was a moment of silence and Elizabeth imagined that Lady Catherine was tapping her fingers together as she did when thinking. Eventually, Lady Catherine said, “That would work rather nicely. Anne is often unwell, and it should be a simple matter to ensure that she is not available for the reading of the will. Then things can proceed as they should with me in control.”

Elizabeth could imagine the man nodding like the puppet he was before hesitating and saying, “There are, of course, a few issues. Your husband elected your nephew Mr. Darcy and your brother as trustees. They will be required by law to visit your daughter and the estate at least once a year to see that things are being well managed and to assist her, should she have any obstacles arise.”

“I am sure I can manage a few visits.” A slight shuffle of movement had Elizabeth picturing the older lady, her lips pursed in disapproval, peering down her nose at her hapless stooge. “I do not foresee any problems, but what about Richard’s inheritance? What steps can we take to stop him from getting it?”

Clearing his throat, the man, who Elizabeth assumed was some form of barrister, said, “Nine years is a long time, my lady. I am sure that in your magnificence you can devise a plan. Though it would be wise to ensure that your daughter stays healthy and unwed. Unless you can, of course, ensure that you retain the Rosings in the marriage settlement.”

Elizabeth bit her lip. She certainly did not like what she was hearing. Her mind instantly went to how she was going to tell Richard what was going on. Surely if she asked Jane to pass him a letter, she could get him word of Lady Catherine’s plots. Mind occupied, Elizabeth was startled when she heard her own name.

“What about that useless girl, Elizabeth? Did my departed husband mention her in his will?”

“My lady,” came the hesitant reply, “she was mentioned. According to your husband’s wishes, she must be guaranteed a lifelong home at Rosings, with all her needs taken care of. The will also references a codicil, shedding light on his specific instructions to be revealed to her when she comes of age.”

“And just what does this codicil say?” demanded Lady Catherine.

“I… I do not know, my lady. It was sealed in such a way that I could not look at it without showing evidence of my perfidy.”

“I suppose she will have to stay for now.” After a pause, Lady Catherine sighed.

The man’s voice was quick to interject, “You may rejoice to know that the will does not say what type of life she must have here, only that she is provided one.”

Lady Catherine let out a cold chuckle and said, “Oh, that is lovely, thank you, Dunn. I have long thought that girl was more suited for work than gentility. Now I can see to it that she learns her place in the world.”

Elizabeth held her breath, her senses on high alert as she heard the faint rustling of footsteps and the door slowly opening. The two conspirators left the study, their footsteps echoing down the hallway, while Elizabeth remained hidden, her heart pounding in her chest. Elizabeth realized that if Lady Catherine caught wind of her eavesdropping, the punishment would be severe, far beyond mere servitude.

Darcy sighed as he sat down at what he still thought of as his father’s desk. It had been six months since his father had died and Darcy had come to grudgingly appreciate how much his father had drilled into his head growing up. Taking over Pemberley proved to be less challenging than he had anticipated for someone with his limited experience and so recently graduated from Cambridge.

The most difficult thing thus far had been cleaning up the mess left behind by Wickham. There had been two maids left with child and a number of debts in both Lambton and Kympton. His treatment of his once playmate had caused a rift among the staff. His steward, Wickham’s father, believed that his father would have never turned his back on his favorite, saying that his father would have forgiven Wickham for his high spirits and the man was sewing dissension among the staff. It had taken explaining the depth of the debts Wickham had racked up and disclosing the fact that he had promised marriage to no less than five of the local girls to get them on his side.

While Darcy could have just dismissed him, he did not want to have to dismiss anyone because of Wickham’s bad behavior and his own father’s intentional blindness. It had taken effort, but he had been successful. For the moment, at least things had grown into a new normal. His relationship with his sister had even started to improve.

Oddly enough, it took him opening up about his struggles and explaining the reasons behind Wickham’s banishment from Pemberley to improve his relationship with Georgianna. Darcy’s usual inclination was to hide how much he struggled with things, but Mrs. Reynolds had informed him that his constant need to appear faultless was straining his connection with his sister. Mrs. Reynolds had explained that Georgianna did not need a faultless brother to be observed from afar. She needed someone who had made mistakes and conquered challenges, not someone whose apparent perfection made her feel inadequate.

That had been an eye-opening conversation. Darcy had wanted to be someone that Georgianna could have confidence in. He never considered that his act of having everything under control was actually worsening things with those close to him. What had surprised him even more was that Mrs. Reynolds wanted him to explain why Wickham was no longer visiting. Despite his initial hesitation to expose his young sister to the darkness in the world, Mrs. Reynolds, who acted as his mother would have more than once, had convinced him it was for the best. So he had explained. Not all the horrid details, of course, but enough so that she knew Wickham was not someone to be trusted.

Looking through his latest stack of correspondence, Darcy froze when he saw the black seal on a letter from Kent. Even without opening it, he knew his Uncle Lewis had died. Opening the missive, Darcy confirmed the news with a sad sigh. Despite Uncle Lewis’s prolonged illness, the news of his death still came as a blow to Darcy.

There was nothing for it. He would have to head for Kent. Pulling out a clean slip of paper, Darcy penned a note to his cousin, Richard, who would be at Matlock. If he stopped at Matlock on his way to Kent, he and Richard could travel together, as they were both needed at Rosings.

Taking the missive with him, Darcy went out into the hall and approached the footman positioned at the bottom of the stairs. Handing it to him, Darcy said, “See to it that this gets to my cousin at Matlock.” With a nod, the footman moved away towards the stables, where one of the stable hands would be available to run the message. Matlock was not so very far away. The rider was sure to get there before dark.

With a burst of energy, he took the stairs two at a time, each step echoing in the stairwell. Darcy made his way to his sister’s suite, where she was sure to be studying with her governess. Peaking his head in, he watched as she read out loud from one of the bards works. He held his breath, patiently waiting for her to come to the end of the poem, and then finally spoke, “Good morning, my sweet. Are you delighting in the bards’ words?”

Looking up from the page she was studying, Georgianna grinned and getting up, she rushed to him, embracing him in a tight hug. It was only after their embrace that she looked up at him with her nose scrunched in distaste before she said, “I do not know why he could not have just said what he meant. It would be much easier to understand if I did not have to ponder over his every word.”

Darcy replied with a burst of laughter, his voice filled with amusement, “I suppose that does make it difficult to understand his work easily. I presume he wanted people to think about his work. It does not help that he wrote it a very long time ago and people talked and wrote differently then.”

Shaking her head, Georgianna exclaimed, “I do not know if I am ever going to like his poetry.”

“Perhaps you will find his plays more to your taste.” Darcy exhaled and proceeded to share, “Georgianna, I just found out that Uncle Lewis has died.”

Her pale blue eyes widened and began to tear up. As far as Darcy knew, she had always been a sensitive child, or at least that is the phrasing Mrs. Reynolds had used to explain her spells of high emotion. Regrettably, Darcy had been away at school much of the time she was growing up, but he was determined to grow closer to her.

“Poor Anne,” Georgianna began, “I know he was very sick, but it is still sad that he died. Are you going to Rosings?”

Nodding, Darcy answered, “Yes, sweet. It’s important for me to check on Anne and see how she is handling the loss of her father. Things may become complicated with Aunt Catherine.”

A grimace twisted Georgianna’s face as she said, “Aunt Catherine is terrible. I do not envy Anne having to live with her. At least Miss Elizabeth is there to help her.”

As he tilted his head, Darcy couldn't help but wonder how she had come to know Miss Elizabeth, though he said, “Your concern for Anne shows your compassionate heart. I will be leaving first thing in the morning and traveling to Kent.”

Looking briefly at her governess, Georgianna responded, “I can manage well enough with Mrs. Fletcher, and you know Mrs. Reynolds can handle Pemberley. Go take care of Anne and Miss Elizabeth, make sure they are safe from Aunt Catherine. Please convey my sympathy to them both.”

Darcy forced himself not to smile at his little sister’s serious expression and leaned over to kiss her forehead, reassuring her, “Do not worry, I will handle Aunt Catherine and make sure Anne and Miss Elizabeth are well.”

Following a brief exchange with Georgianna’s governess, Mrs. Fletcher, Darcy left the room and sought out Mrs. Reynolds and his valet to get things in order for his departure. There was much to do if he was going to do as his sister requested and take care of Anne and Miss Elizabeth and handle Aunt Catherine. Fighting a shudder, Darcy was grateful that he would be picking up Richard along the way.

“I would like to say that I am surprised by mother’s machinations, but I am not.” With a sigh, Anne pushed aside the ledger, the lines of numbers forgotten, and picked up her teacup. After a slow sip, she said, “We will have to come up with a plan. You know I do not have the energy for a confrontation with my mother and yet I do not want to banish her completely from life. I have only just lost one parent, and I could not bear to lose the other so soon. For all that, she is not the best example of motherhood.”

For Elizabeth, a mother was an unnecessary concept. Many years without a maternal figure had taught her to navigate life alone. The lack of a mother’s love was an invisible scar, but it no longer bled, but that did not mean she would thrust such a wound on her friend should she not wish it. In the years since their sisterly bond had blossomed, Elizabeth realized that despite their closeness, their perspectives on shared experiences often diverged, a subtle but significant difference. Anne had proven to be quite attached to whatever crumbs of warmth that her mother was willing to offer.

Then, too, there was Anne’s health to worry about. Elizabeth studied her almost sister, carefully. Anne was pale and Elizabeth worried that Anne had not yet recovered from the shock of her father’s death. Anne was correct. She would not be able to confront Lady Catherine, her heart could not withstand the stress of it.

For all that Anne did not want to lose her mother entirely, it was the lack of motherly affection that had helped both girls to develop a close sisterly bond. That deep connection, a bond forged in years of shared experiences, drove Elizabeth to protect Anne, regardless of her desires. “I thought of sending Richard a letter through my sister, but I have a feeling that he will come. His father might also come, but I am uncertain of the earl’s opinion on women managing estates.”

Tapping a finger on her pale lips, Anne thought for a moment before saying, “I think Richard will come, and possibly Darcy. If we can successfully deal with my mother, then handling my uncle should be no problem at all.”

While many people were only exposed to the reserved Anne who gave way to her mother in all things, Elizabeth knew the real Anne. She knew Anne was a thinker whose failing health had forced her to find an alternative means to accomplish what she wished to. When necessary, Elizabeth served as her legs, eyes, and ears.

Tone curious, Elizabeth inquired, “Would you like to disclose your mother’s plotting to Richard and Mr. Darcy?”

Nodding, Anne said, “I think it will be necessary. I do not want Richard to be caught off guard by my mother and swoop in and accidentally destroy whatever we have in place. I am displeased by the idea that my mother is planning to withhold his inheritance from him. It makes me wonder just how far she might go to get what she wants. Besides, if I speak to Richard about my concerns, it is only logical that we bring Darcy into the fold.”

“I suppose that makes sense. Richard tells me he shares nearly everything with Mr. Darcy, and he trusts him more than his own brother, who has become a bit of a fop.” While Elizabeth had known Felton for most of her life, they had little to do with one another. The last time she had seen him while visiting Jane, he had been all style and no substance. It made sense to her that Richard, who was completely unlike his brother, would rely on his cousin for companionship and support.

Scrunching her mouth, Anne said, “Sometimes I fear for the earldom, though for different reasons from my mother.”

Elizabeth skillfully steered the conversation away from Anne’s potential tangent on the clash between self-expression and sacrifice by proposing, “Why don’t we invite your cousins to join us for tea in your sitting room once they arrive? That way, we can convene our own little war council?”

Anne leaned forward in her chair, grinning slightly. “That sounds like a brilliant plan. Mother can discuss things with uncle in loud tones, accompanied by flying tea sets, and we can have a civil conversation away from all the chaos.”

“Speaking of tea sets,” Elizabeth frowned at the tea that had grown cold while they had discussed their latest problems. Pushing her teacup away from herself, Elizabeth scooped up a scone from the tray and, after taking a bite, hummed briefly, adding, “We may have let our tea grow cold, but the cook’s pastries are still as grand as ever. You know how hard she works to tempt you. Please do eat one.”

“You know I have very little appetite anymore, but I will try one.” They both knew that Anne would be wasting away if not for all the small things the cook did to tempt Anne. Taking a bite, Anne smiled and, after chewing and swallowing, she exclaimed, “It seems that Mrs. Pitcher can do no wrong in the kitchen. The only things she makes that I do not like is what she makes by mother’s order to appear fancy, and that is not at all her fault.”

Finishing her scone, Elizabeth forced herself not to act the gluten and take another one off the tray. Licking crumbs off the corner of her lip, she said, “Yes, it really is a pity that your mother has no real taste for good food.”

“My mother has no real taste for anything, Elizabeth. Have you seen the way she decorates?” This comment from Anne set both girls off into peals of laughter because it was so true. For all of Lady Catherine’s diatribes on how amazing she was or would be had she learned how to do something. The incongruous mix of colors and themes in Lady Catherine’s outfits and room decorations left Elizabeth wondering about the woman’s state of mind. In order to endure Lady Catherine and her relentless lectures, Elizabeth and Anne relied on finding amusement in her contradictory statements and quirks and exchanging knowing looks or discussing them later.

Leaning back in her chair, Elizabeth asked, “So what is our plan for tomorrow? Is there anything in particular we need to accomplish?”

“Until Richard and Darcy get here, we do not have much to do but look gloomy and unsuspecting when around my mother.”

“Speaking of gloomy,” Elizabeth asked. “You seem to be handling your father’s passing better than I had hoped.”

“Yes, well, towards the end there, papa’s suffering became unbearable,” Anne recounted in a somber tone. “There is actually a part of me relieved by his passing. Because though I will miss him terribly, I find comfort knowing his passing was kinder than his prolonged suffering.”

There was a logic to Anne’s words that brought Elizabeth comfort. She had almost felt guilty for her own similar feelings. Uncle Lewis was like a second father to her, and, despite that, she had stopped wanting him to hang on at the end. It had just been too hard watching his pain. Elizabeth couldn’t help but feel a wave of sorrow wash over her, realizing the extent of her own sadness and the void left by the absence of her dependable Uncle Lewis.

Still, life would go on and she would do all she could to protect Anne from what life threw at her, Lady Catherine included. Soon Richard would arrive, probably with Mr. Darcy, and they could come up with a better plan than would not let Lady Catherine get her way.

Still, she couldn’t shake the memory of Mr. Darcy’s troubling opinions from his visit a couple of years ago. She held onto the hope that his previous apology and commitment to change had stayed intact, and that he hadn’t relapsed into his old patterns since their last encounter. He possessed a sharp mind, and Uncle Lewis spoke well of him, so as long as he remained agreeable, collaborating with him to outmaneuver Lady Catherine would be a pleasure.