Page 18 of The Shades of Pemberley
The proposed journey to the north was also a source of anticipation and delight, for William had spoken many times of it in such terms that Elizabeth soon considered it a matter of fact.
The longer he was away, the firmer the plans became, until they had decided on the dates of Elizabeth’s travel.
There was only one remaining question—whether she would go alone in Mrs. Darcy’s company, or if any members of her family would also accompany them.
“Interested though I am to see Darcy’s new property,” stated her father the day they gathered to make the final plans, “I shall not travel to Pemberley. As I have little liking for travel, I shall be content to remain here.”
“Oh, Mr. Bennet,” said his wife, her glance heavenward suggesting she prayed for patience, “we all know of your preferences. I never supposed you would consent to going.”
“What of you, Maggie?” asked Mrs. Darcy. “Do you wish to see your daughter’s future home?”
Mrs. Bennet considered this for a few moments before shaking her head. “I might have liked to go, but I think it may be best if I demurred for the moment.”
“You shall have plenty of opportunities to see Pemberley, Mama,” said Elizabeth, favoring her mother with an affectionate smile. “Perhaps you would all consent to join us there for Christmas.”
“For shame, Daughter,” said Mr. Bennet, trying to project disapproval. “Did I not just state my disinclination for traveling? Do you suppose I shall wish to do it next winter rather than the season that is already upon us?”
“I do not suppose you are so opposed as you suggest, Papa. By Christmas, I suspect you will be eager to see the estate.”
Mr. Bennet regarded her, affection in his gaze. “I never could mislead you, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth smiled and turned back to her mother and future mother-in-law. “Should any of my sisters accompany us?”
“Not I,” said Lydia at once. “I have no more liking for travel in winter than Papa, and there are many reasons that I should stay at home.”
“Would those reasons have anything to do with the regiment?” asked her father. “Remember, Lydia, that you are too young to be associating with those men outside your sisters’ presence.”
Lydia was at heart a good girl, but she had definite ideas of fun and tried to push her boundaries whenever she could. Lydia shook her head and affected unconcern.
“Not at all, Papa. I would not wish to interrupt my studies.”
Mr. Bennet snorted, informing them all what he thought of Lydia’s attempt at diversion.
The rest of the family grinned, though Mary’s expression was more of a grimace.
Even Mrs. Bennet, who had much more tolerance for Lydia’s high spirits, sensed her daughter was dissembling, and she shook her head in despair.
“Your diligence astonishes us, Lydia,” said Mr. Bennet to no one in particular.
“Shall Jane or any of the other girls go?” said Mrs. Darcy, returning the conversation to its original topic.
“I should like to have Jane here with me,” said Mrs. Bennet.
Perhaps Elizabeth was reading too much into her mother’s statement, but Elizabeth suspected that her mother wished for Mr. Bingley to return, though there would be no one at Netherfield to receive him, and preferred Jane to stay in Hertfordshire against that possibility.
The way Mr. Bennet regarded his wife, Elizabeth was certain he sensed it too.
Jane, the obliging young woman that she was, did not protest her exclusion.
“Then perhaps Kitty?” asked Mrs. Darcy. She smiled and added to Mary: “If you would like to go, Mary, we would be happy to have you too.”
Mary considered it for a moment, then shook her head. “Thank you for including me, Mrs. Darcy, but I am certain that I shall also have many opportunities to see Lizzy’s new home. I shall remain with Mama and Jane.”
Again, Elizabeth suspected an ulterior motive in Mary’s decision, for Mrs. Bennet and Jane were not equipped to ensure that Lydia behaved.
Lydia might not listen to Mary so much as she listened to Elizabeth, but with Jane backing her, Mary could speak and affect Lydia’s behavior.
Lydia saw nothing of this; were Elizabeth to guess, she suspected her younger sister was anticipating a fortnight without her stern second eldest sister watching over her, content in the notion that she might do whatever she pleased.
Jane shared a glance with Elizabeth, looked heavenward, and shook her head, rendering Elizabeth content.
With Mary and Jane watching over her, Lydia would not go too far and expose the family.
“I am to go to the north?” demanded Kitty as if she could not comprehend such a thing.
“Unless you prefer not to go,” said Elizabeth, maintaining an innocent demeanor. “If you wish to remain at home, I am certain I can be happy in Mrs. Darcy’s company alone.”
Kitty reddened, but Mrs. Darcy laughed and directed a mock glare at Elizabeth. “Lizzy! Do not tease your sister so.” Then to Kitty she added: “We shall be happy to have you with us if you wish to go, dear. As I recall, William has a young cousin about your age—perhaps you wish for a new friend?”
Belated though it was, Kitty understood Elizabeth’s jesting and her good fortune, and she gave Mrs. Darcy a grateful—and energetic—nod. Mrs. Darcy turned to Elizabeth.
“Then shall we three venture to the north?”
“I cannot wait,” agreed Elizabeth.
“Yes,” said Mr. Bennet, “I can feel your eagerness from here, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth did not deign to respond. Mrs. Darcy took on the burden of replying to her son’s letter, and they planned to leave on Monday next, which would allow them to travel to Derbyshire, stay a week there, and then return with no need to stay in an inn on the Sabbath.
With the composition of the party decided, Elizabeth set to her preparations, eager to be in William’s company again.
AFTER AN INTERMINABLE day of enduring Lady Catherine, Darcy and Fitzwilliam made their way to the study for a nightcap.
The way he carried himself, Darcy would not wonder if Fitzwilliam were as bone weary as he felt—there was nothing to compare with enduring the woman, for she was unlike any other that Darcy had ever met.
“I hope you will not blame me if I confess to dreading this visit,” said Darcy, sighing with relief as the study door closed behind them.
Darcy threw himself into a chair and stared at the fire in the hearth, glaring at it for its merry crackling and unconcern for the virago who had appeared in their midst. “Do you suppose it is acceptable if I order Lady Catherine from the estate?”
Fitzwilliam, who had approached the sideboard, chuckled as he returned holding two glasses of brandy and offered one to Darcy. With an exaggerated sigh, he settled into the other chair, holding his glass in a negligent hand as if he had forgotten he held it.
“In answer to your first comment,” said Fitzwilliam, “I cannot blame you for espousing my feelings in every particular. Trust me, Darcy—I am much better acquainted with her character than you are; I look on her presence with more horror than you can imagine.
“As for your question . . .”
The way Fitzwilliam trailed off and the savage glee that accompanied his pause, Darcy had no choice but to give in to his mirth.
By this time, having spent much time in this man’s company, he had begun to esteem him almost as much as Bingley.
While there was no blood connection between them, Darcy regarded Fitzwilliam as if he were Darcy’s relation and not the cousin of his cousin.
“The choice is yours, of course,” said Fitzwilliam, pushing his humor away, “for you are the master of Pemberley. The ruckus she will raise at being denied the house over which her sister presided may well echo to my father’s home thirty miles to the south of here, but I cannot imagine he will blame you for it.
Father has no greater tolerance for his sister than I do, and in some ways less patience. ”
Darcy looked about the room, an absent nod for Fitzwilliam’s opinion.
Though Darcy had been here for some time now, Pemberley and the room in which they sat still did not feel like they were his own.
It would be some time before they did, he mused; in many ways, the past weeks still felt like a dream from which he must awake.
“I suppose it is best to attempt good relations with her,” said Darcy, though reluctant.
“No, I cannot say you are incorrect. Given what I know of my aunt, I suspect she wishes to ensure the estate is still managed in a way she deems necessary and ensure you will not shame the family with your unfashionable manners. When she is satisfied—and when she becomes insulted that we do not listen to her—she will desist and depart. Rare has been the time that Aunt Catherine is away from Rosings Park, even for a short time, so she will not wish to stay long.”
“Then perhaps we may endure her.”
“Aye, let us hope we can.”
Darcy regarded his friend. “You mentioned that she manages her own estate?”
“In Kent,” agreed Fitzwilliam. “It is a de Bourgh property of her husband’s family, but Lady Catherine keeps it in trust for her daughter.”
Darcy frowned. “From what I have heard, Miss de Bourgh is of age.”
“That she is. However, Anne’s health is indifferent, and she is not inclined to challenge her mother’s authority at present.” Fitzwilliam gazed into the distance, seeing nothing. “In some ways, I am surprised that Anne did not accompany her mother.”
“Oh?” asked Darcy when Fitzwilliam did not elaborate.
Fitzwilliam shook himself free of his introspection. “According to Lady Catherine, Anne was destined to become the mistress of Pemberley.”
That got Darcy’s attention. “Yes, I recall hearing something of an engagement.”