Page 10 of Secrets Across the Sea
Hertfordshire, England – 1812
“Jane! Elizabeth!” Kitty called as she entered Longbourn, her sisters rushing to her side as they exited the drawing room.
“Whatever is the matter?” Jane worried as she ran a hand over her sister. “Have you been hurt?”
Laughing as she nudged her sister away, Kitty leaned against the now closed door, eyes alight and face pinked.
“Nothing is the matter,” she sighed, eyes drifting upward as her lips curled. “I… I am to be married, that is all.”
“All? You and he never thought to ask PaPa or at least Jane?” Elizabeth questioned, her voice rising even as her heart fell.
It had proved as horribly inevitable as she had supposed the year prior. Their happy home would be left one sister short… and there was nothing she could do about it. Nothing which would not hurt Kitty in the trying–if mere protests would even work to keep a couple in love apart.
Frowning, Kitty’s eyes grew glassy as she viewed her sister.
No. She would not protest. She would appear in all ways content with her sister’s choice… though the pain it would bring would be great.
“I apologize,” Elizabeth hurried, “it is all so sudden, and, though we have expected his proposal, it is merely…”
“Merely that we wish to be a part of your life,” Jane cut in as she pulled Kitty into a hug. “And it is customary for a gentleman to speak with a lady’s family. To receive permission when a lady is not yet twenty-one.”
Nodding, Kitty squeezed her sister tighter. “I know. WE know, James and I. It is only… only PaPa. He has been away for such a dreadfully long time; and he writes but every few months. How are James and I to obtain approval from a man who must remain so far from us? We shall write to him, certainly, but is it not Uncle who has the ability to provide consent whilst PaPa is away? If he does not protest, and Jane and you approve, then what else do we require? No lands come with me, only the inheritance from our mother set aside as our dowry. I know you two have added to it, but that is still not much. Surely?”
“Uncle may need to sign your marriage settlement,” Elizabeth acknowledged, “but it will be done, even if we all must descend on Gracechurch Street to force the matter!”
“Indeed. In regard to permission there shall be no delays. Still, let us think on happier things,” Jane suggested as she led her sisters into the nearby drawing room, “Your upcoming marriage for a start.”
Standing across from her sisters, Elizabeth forced a smile, yet, even to her, the pained, awkwardness of it could not be denied; the strain of her lips pulled in unfamiliar directions. Surely, she could do better?
“When do you two wish to be married?” Elizabeth inquired, her breath catching as her sisters made themselves comfortable on the settee.
“Next spring, we hope; as much as we would prefer to marry in a month or even two, we have much to plan. He does not take orders for another month, and though Sir Lucus knows of an opening in Watford, it is uncertain if the position is to be James’. It would be lovely if that were so, for then we would live not fifteen miles from both our families… the only other opening we have heard of is in Leeds!”
“Leeds?” Elizabeth questioned, throat closing as her heart began to race.
“Leeds. James does not desire it any more than I, however, he needs a position–newly ordained as he will be and with no connections to speak of, he does not have the luxury of choice. We can only pray Sir Lucus is able to persuade them of James’ qualities.”
“I am certain he shall,” Jane said assertively, the confidence in her tone and posture unmatched by those present.
Watford, Elizabeth considered as she moved to gaze out the window, was a distance she could manage. They might see one another every month–more often when weather and responsibilities were both mild. But Leeds? A few times a year at best would be all they might manage. Probably nearer two, given the days of travel each way.
No. Nothing about a position in Leeds would prove any good.
“Whatever is the matter with us?” Jane smiled, the downturned faces of her sisters meeting her. “This is a happy day! You are to be married, and to a man you love and admire at that. We shall hope and pray for the success of the Watford position, and in the meantime, we shall begin to make plans.”
∞∞∞
“Do you intend to work up your own trousseau?” Lydia questioned from her seat at the table, the space strewn with various ribbons and notions. “I can always help if you are; though I enjoy the finishing touches to simple sewing.”
Setting down her embroidery, Kitty smiled. “Thank you, Lydia. It is all too likely that I must make my own if I wish to have more than one or two new outfits. A man of the cloth may not be expected to marry a woman who dresses too finely, but you know my love for clothes, and I do not mean to leave it behind.”
“Hear, hear,” Mary chuckled, “James Lucus is well aware of the woman he wishes to marry; if he is any kind of man, he will not expect you to set aside your interests. You, after all, do not wish him to change.”
“Perhaps I would wish him to retire his old great coat,” Kitty teased. “Even his father has been after him to have a new one made. Still, as that is something I can force myself to accept, I believe that it is as you say; I do not wish him to change. I am, however, quite thankful that we each find enjoyment in one another's interests, even when we do not share them on a more personal level. Clothes, for example. Or his love of fishing.”
Face pulling, Lydia all but gagged. “Fish! Always fish. If I ever marry, it will not be to a man who loves fish. Be it the act of fishing or eating those monsters, I will not have those scaly creatures in my house!”
“What if he were to give all of his catch away?” Kitty queried, her lips pulling upward at the wide eyes and frantic shaking of her sister’s head.
“The smell. No. No. Not even then!”
The response earning the laughter of the room, Lydia crossed her arms tersely before the bright faces and fervent gaiety of her sisters caused her shoulders to loosen and laughter to follow. Even Mrs. Hill, upon entering the room with an impressive stack of the day’s post, let out a chuckle as she set them in Jane’s outstretched hand; the amusement of the room turning to contentment mingled with dread or curiosity, depending upon which sister would be expected to answer those who had written.
Glancing toward Mary, Elizabeth allowed a small smirk to form. It was Mary’s turn if she recalled correctly. If not, then Jane’s; either way, it was not her turn. Not until two weeks hence, in any case.
“Anything from PaPa?” Lydia rushed, the faces of all falling as Jane shook her head.
“Nothing. Perhaps tomorrow though,” Jane suggested softly.
“Are they all business then?” Elizabeth questioned as she moved toward her sister, head tilted at the pile of correspondence, “Or is there something amusing for once?”
With a light sigh Jane examined the post, eyes cutting toward the watchful gaze of her sister. “A great deal of business I fear, though there is a bit of amusement as well. Aunt Gardiner has written… then there is this one here, I do not recognize the hand. It may prove amusing; or business in disguise.”
Opening the letter as her sisters gathered around, Jane’s eyes darted back and forth across the paper, mouth rounding more and more as she read.
“What is it?” Elizabeth hurried as she rose on tiptoe, “I cannot make it out from here.”
“Nor I. Do tell,” Mary added before frowning at Lydia, the younger having thrown the elder off balance as she sought to view the paper.
Stuffing the letter behind the others, Jane’s fingers flew over them madly until stilling on Aunt Gardiner’s.
“This will hopefully lend all of this sense,” Jane mumbled as she began to read; the surge of her curious sisters around her leaving no impact.
Squinting over Jane’s shoulder, Elizabeth did little more than catch sight of a word or two before the nudging of a sister would leave the rest lost.
‘Invite. Weather allows. Countess. Your mother. Promise. No. Ask it.’ None of it made any sense.
Furrowed brows and the general noises of dissatisfaction grew in number until Lydia grabbed the first letter, skimming its contents before laughing and waving it aloft.
“La, what fun! I only wish I were older; it is bound to be jolly. What shall you pack?”
“Pack?” Elizabeth questioned, grabbing the letter from Lydia’s hand.
The letter, written in an odd, regimented manner, at full odds to the swirling signature, likely showed the hand of a servant with the signature of their master, while the paper, of exceptional quality and drenched in a floral scent, again pointed to a wealthy lady.
Jaw slack, Elizabeth studied the missive several times over. A countess? Friends with their mother?
Mother would have said so, if there had been such a connection. The gossip. The one upping it could have brought. It all sounded too tempting.
Yet, Mother had been quite good at keeping family secrets. Her past, her childhood, even her life before Father, she had spoken little of. They had always thought it due to shame at her upbringing and connections, but if she had friends ranking as high as a countess, then shame would not come into it. Unless Lady Charmane had humble beginnings and happened to marry a count? she pondered. Either way, it hardly explained why she had invited them to a house party after all these years. Or why the Countess knew their aunt. Or why Uncle Gardiner had never spoken of his or his sisters' youth.
“What did Aunt say?” Elizabeth questioned Jane as the communication from Lady Charmane found its way from sister to sister, the wide eyes and murmured confusion following the letter as it went.
“She claims to have promised Mamma that, should she not be alive to see any of her daughters married, that before a single daughter did so, Aunt would make certain some of us would visit Lady Clarissa Charmane, the Dowager Countess of Underhill in Staffordshire. Mother was apparently most insistent, and Lady Charmane, it would seem, desires it as well–or at least desires to fulfill Mamma’s wish–for she invited us herself!”
“One of us ought to go then,” Elizabeth nodded, “for Mamma’s sake and for our own. I know I have never been so curious of a person as I am of this countess; that they were friends gives rise to more questions than I fear may be answered.”
Shaking her head, Jane lifted the letter from their aunt, “One will not do. Mamma wanted as many of her daughters to go as possible, why I cannot say, but Aunt says so. All of us cannot go of course, what with the estate to run and Lydia not yet out.”
“I am in the room, you know,” Lydia joked, her smile fading as she fingered the letter Jane held. “I know I cannot go–as much as I should like to–but I can manage things while you are gone. I think?”
“Let me stay with her,” Kitty suggested, her cheeks pinking as she admitted, “As curious as I am, the three weeks there and all those days of travel to and from, well… I do not wish to go. A week, perhaps, but not the better part of four. James and I have never been apart so long by choice, and I choose not to.”
“The house party will go through Christmas! Are you certain?” Jane asked, all eyes fixing on Kitty.
“I am. I should not enjoy myself if I went; you three deserve some time for yourselves away from Longbourn. In the summer I got to stay with Aunt and Uncle in London for over a week; and Lydia went with Maria to visit the Lucus’ cousin only last month, hardly the journey you two shall go on as each was half a day’s travel, but still, I cannot recall the last time any of you went away.”
“Nor I,” Elizabeth laughed. “It is settled then; if you are certain the work is not too much for you. One of us could stay if you need extra hands.”
“I notice you did not offer yourself up,” Mary smirked, Elizabeth’s playful shove only causing it to broaden.
“I need no help, honestly,” Kitty interjected, her eyes dancing between the two of them. “The harvest is done, save a few late root vegetables and such. All of the hard work of preserving is complete. And Jane is such a fine keeper of the books, all I will do in that regard is the weekly accounts. No. It is a simple matter for Lydia and I; and a much needed trial. Once I marry I must do largely for myself–though James and I have agreed we will work together, he will have obligations to his parish. I have not been left to run things so completely before.”
“You will do remarkably well, I am certain,” Jane remarked. “Though we will do all we can to make the time we are away easy. I only wish it were not over Christmas.”
“It is what Mamma wanted,” Kitty said, her arm wrapping around Lydia, “and we are not to be alone. The Lucus’ will have us over much of the time you are gone, I am certain. Already Lady Lucus has been hinting at her desire to have me there during that time, and Maria is always glad of mine and Lydia’s company.”
“It shall be jolly,” Lydia smiled bravely, “and you will be back before twelfth night, and that has always been my favourite!”
Wrapping Lydia and Kitty in a hug, Elizabeth closed her eyes tightly, the reality of it all–spoken and unspoken–sinking in.
This was the last Christmas they would all be as they were, and yet, they would be apart. Dear Kitty would be married in the spring, and none of this would be the same.
True, they might uncover Mamma’s secrets if Lady Charmane had not been sworn to silence, yet, it came at a high cost. That of this precious time with her sisters. These final months together.
Perhaps, she should not go?
“Oh, Mamma,” Elizabeth whispered, Kitty lifting her head toward her elder sister with a creased brow and understanding smile.
If only things could remain the same forever.