Page 1 of The Countess and Her Sister

Matlock House, London

Elizabeth Bennet slumped backward in the plush armchair and kicked her feet up on the footstool, momentarily surprised by the flash of color as her skirts swished with her movement.

She had just come out of blacks and greys, and had grown too accustomed to the mourning garb.

For more than a year, a putrid sweating sickness had ravaged London and the surrounding counties.

Jane had lost her husband, and when Elizabeth came to live with her sister in London, she donned the same dreary color as her sister.

Not long after that period of mourning ended, the sisters resumed their black crepe when the sickness claimed Mr. Bennet a few months before it disappeared from England.

Only this week had they finally unpacked trunks of colorful garments, though Jane’s mother-in-law was determined to indulge them with new gowns that were not so out of date.

Elizabeth had been content as a member of her sister’s household, though Jane herself had not yet accustomed herself to thinking of it as her home.

She was happier a widow than she had been as a wife, and motherhood pleased her as much as the motherly affection of the Dowager Countess of Matlock.

But Matlock House was certainly Lady Augusta’s domain.

Jane entered the room quietly, smiling as she informed Elizabeth, Richard, and Lady Rebecca that after an afternoon of rigorous birthday celebrations, Thomas, the three-year-old Earl of Matlock, was asleep at last. A few minutes later, Lady Augusta swept into the room with a commanding air, instantly rousing them all to alacrity.

“You are a dreary lot. If I can keep up with our lad at my age, I cannot think what excuse you all have for lazing in such a way. But that is what I must speak to you all about.”

Richard looked up from his book, and his sister snatched it away from him. “I know what this portends. We are all out of mourning, and Mamma has grand designs for us. We have been safe for too long, with Jane and Lizzy in grey for their Papa, and our days so nice and quiet.”

Their lives had been peaceful, despite Matlock House being one of the finest in Mayfair, and the family residing there one of the most well-connected in society.

Since Elizabeth had come to London nearly two years prior, they had scarcely seen anyone but the Gardiners and sundry Fitzwilliam relations.

Jane and Elizabeth had been perfectly at ease with their tranquility, for they spent their days amongst the few people they loved the best, improving themselves as they chose, and living in luxury beyond what Elizabeth had ever imagined.

“Nice and quiet is for married people, which you are not,” Lady Augusta said airily. “Two of the most eligible women in London sit with me in this room – and you, Lizzy, are not without advantages beyond your connections. And you, Richard….”

“Yes, yes, just point me at the heiress you like best,” he drawled with a wave of his hand. “But are you certain, Lizzy, that there are no wealthy distant relations to dower you properly? Cannot Sir Edward Gardiner do something for you?”

He winked, and Elizabeth stuck her tongue out at him. “We are too much brother and sister, now, and Rebecca has taught me well in the art of vexing you; I should make you a wicked and willful wife.”

“He may deserve no better,” Lady Augusta tutted. “It is a pity your portion is small, even with what Jane has added to it.”

Jane’s marriage had not been a love match but a compromise engineered by their mother to entrap a wealthy beau after several seasons of Mrs. Bennet assiduously frightening away Jane’s suitors with her enthusiasm.

Viscount Montrose, who had only been an earl for a fortnight before his death, had not been as generous as Mrs. Bennet expected in the marriage settlement.

What money Jane did have the liberty of dispensing with as she chose, she had resolved to share with Elizabeth, who had been her only comfort during the dark period of her marriage.

When Elizabeth looked over at her sister, she could see that Jane had gone pale, the joy she had radiated all day now drained from her face. She cast Elizabeth a look of silent pleading. “Surely Jane need not marry again if she does not wish it,” Elizabeth said to the dowager countess.

Since Lord Matlock had died and the viscount followed him so quickly, Jane was also a dowager countess, though in informal family conversation they avoided any confusion by referring to Jane as Lady Jane, or the countess; it would be many years yet before her son wed and bestowed that title on another woman.

In bearing her husband a son, Jane had secured her future already.

Lady Augusta shook her head. “Poor Richard cannot manage Thomas’s affairs forever!”

Her son grimaced. “ Poor Richard was glad to give up his constant peril in the army and live a life of ease looking after the little earl’s holdings. I should rather remain in the service of a child than sell myself to the highest bidder amongst the debutantes.”

“Oh, I think you are a little old for a debutante,” his mother sniffed. “But I have heard your cousin Eleanor is in town.”

“She is boring,” Richard protested, trying to grab his book back from Rebecca, who tossed it across the room to Elizabeth.

Jane plaintively pressed her lips together; Elizabeth could well imagine what her sister was thinking.

Had Jane’s marriage been merely boring, she might not have been relieved to be made a widow after less than a year of marriage.

But after all the torment she had endured at the hands of the man forced upon her by the rapacious Mrs. Bennet, Jane wished never to marry again – certainly not without the deepest love, respect, and above all, trust.

Lady Augusta, for all her imperiousness, was fond of her children, her stepdaughter-in-law, and even Elizabeth, whom she had come to consider one of her own brood.

And she had known what her stepson was, what Jane had suffered.

She patted Jane’s cheek tenderly. “I have a good man in mind for you, my dear.”

Richard groaned. “I can guess who you mean, and he will not accede to your wishes so easily, Mamma. He has never capitulated to Lady Catherine.”

“Pish! That is because that ghastly woman resides entirely in a realm of her own delusion, and nobody would have her insipid daughter! But our Jane is the loveliest, dearest creature in the world. And he ought to wed before it is time for his sister to enter society. I think them eminently suited in disposition. Look, even Rebecca agrees with me.”

Rebecca could not conceal her hilarity, which was often the case. “Forgive me, Mamma – I smile because I think it preposterous! Darcy is duller than dirt!”

Richard snorted with laughter. “You only say that because he would not have you the season you came out.”

“I would not have him – or any man! I hope you will excuse me from any matrimonial schemes, Mamma. You know I must end a spinster and keep you company in your dotage.”

“Say dotage again, Rebecca, and I shall reconsider my leniency toward your determination to drive men away as if it were your vocation.” Lady Augusta lifted her gaze heavenward and gave a long-suffering sigh, though she could not hide her bemusement; she loved to vex ‘her young people.’

“It is my great calling,” Rebecca drawled. “And I cannot like your notion of matchmaking for poor Jane. You may throw Richard to the dogs – by which I mean the women he fancies – but cannot Jane simply re-enter society and make merry, and only wed if and when she meets a man she likes?”

Elizabeth and Jane each gave the woman they called sister a look of gratitude. If they were to rejoin the first circles their relations belonged to, they could depend upon Lady Rebecca as their staunchest defender.

“Certainly not! She is far too inexperienced – forgive me, my dear, but it is the truth. Every fortune hunter in London will be queuing to woo her – it is not to be borne! And is such a one to be a father to my grandson , to shape the character of the young Earl of Matlock? Are the shades of Matlock to be thus polluted? No indeed! Our fortune, our country seat in Derbyshire, our very family reputation must be considered – and protected. Darcy is an imposing fellow, and he will do the job creditably. No grasping, artful puppy would dare work any mischief on Jane with Darcy at her side. And would they not make a handsome couple?”

Jane fidgeted with her hands before looking up at the dowager countess. “You refer to Robert’s cousin, Mr. Darcy of Pemberley?”

“I suppose you never met him – he and Robert did not always get along,” the dowager mused with a forlorn sigh.

“Proof of his goodness, I shall grant you,” Richard quipped. “He and I have always been close, though he seldom comes to London. I can vouch for his good character, though I wish no further involvement in the scheme. Darcy does not like being managed.”

“Perhaps that is why he has not taken a wife already,” Elizabeth said archly. “If he is so grand and handsome, as you say, Lady Augusta, there must be some reason he is single. Pray, what sort of man is he?”

“Silent, brooding, and perpetually displeased,” Rebecca huffed. “He does not like dancing or cards, protested every scheme of mischief in our youth, and never speaks unless he can say something that will amaze the whole room.”

Jane looked stricken for a moment, but offered Lady Augusta a serene smile. “You must think well of him, or you would not make a match between us.”

“He is perhaps a little taciturn, but he suffers what I would spare you from – the fortune hunters of the ton ! It only takes a little pleasant conversation and a dance at a ball with some insipid miss of middling connection for the lady’s mother to begin making designs on him and his fortune.

He is guarded and cautious, both desirable qualities in my estimation, but amongst intimate acquaintance he can be pleasing when he wishes it.

He is exceedingly intelligent and makes an excellent master of Pemberley, which is a grander estate even than Matlock.

His sister Georgiana must be sixteen now, I think.

I recall she was always a timid little thing, but he is ever so patient with her.

He will not mind your reserve, dearest.”

Elizabeth could see her sister’s hesitance. “But what are his tastes, his occupations? What are his passions and pursuits?”

Lady Augusta looked flummoxed. “Well! Jane is very welcome to ask him, Miss Lizzy! I am only suggesting that she become acquainted with him, after all. And perhaps he may have a fine friend for you, but I beg you would not pester him with your impertinence.”

“You must leave that to me,” Rebecca said flatly. “He will have no patience to spare for you, when I shall be straining the entirety of his forbearance.”

“I am sure you shall, my heart,” Lady Augusta sighed, looking ready to throw up her hands in defeat.

“I am far too beholden to you to be half as difficult as I may wish to be,” Elizabeth told the dowager with a waggle of her eyebrows.

“And if Jane likes him, I shall be your fiercest ally in uniting them. If he has a handsome friend for me, I am sure I shall never give you the slightest trouble ever again.”

“Jane likes everybody,” Richard said. “But if Cousin Eleanor is in London, her brothers must be about – perhaps Darcy may have a little competition. Ha! I am nearly giving my approval to this scheme of yours, Mamma, though I doubt that will reassure my poor sister.”

Jane smiled weakly at him. “I think you are trying to frighten me with your devious ways.”

“Indeed, he is,” Elizabeth cried. “But you underestimate Jane, Brother. She is a woman of high fortitude; her courage shall rise at every attempt to intimidate her. Even now I see she wishes to gratify Mamma and test her own mettle.”

Having broken entirely with Mrs. Bennet after bidding their father a final farewell, Jane and Elizabeth had come to see the dowager countess as a mother, and she encouraged them to address her as such, even publicly.

Jane adored the woman, and Elizabeth could see that Jane was ready to put aside her own apprehensions and capitulate.

“I am amenable to re-entering society, especially with the support of my family,” Jane said.

“I will meet Mr. Darcy, if he agrees. But I could not bear to be forced upon him against his own inclination. And if he is really as reserved as I am, I wonder whether we shall get on. I suppose it shall be a test of my temerity.”

“One look at your beauty, dear child, and he will be reciting verses and offering you everything you deserve. Mark my words, you and he shall be wed by the end of summer,” Lady Augusta proclaimed.

“Twenty pounds says otherwise,” Richard whispered to Rebecca with a sneaky grin.

Lady Augusta wagged a finger at her children.

“And as to the rest of you, my poor late sister had two sons and a daughter, most conveniently. If they cannot inspire the devotion all these silly novels instruct you to demand, well – London is a big city, full of eligible prospects once we sift out the riff-raff. Do not think yourselves safe from my efforts, for it shall take nothing at all for me to set Jane up forever. You must all marry and give me more grandchildren, you know, or Thomas will become terribly spoiled.”

“We could never allow that ,” Elizabeth said with a laugh. “We shall have to bear the possibility of domestic felicity as best we can. ”