Page 93 of The Shades of Pemberley
L ady Susan’s arrival with Miss Anne de Bourgh in tow came two days later, the carriage entering Pemberley’s drive in the early afternoon and trundling toward the house in the distance.
Elizabeth and William were on hand to greet them, as were Colonel Fitzwilliam and the earl.
When the carriage stopped, the two Fitzwilliam men approached to assist the ladies to descend, and when they had exchanged greetings, they made their way to the Darcys.
“Lady Susan,” said Elizabeth, curtseying to her. “And Miss de Bourgh. Welcome to Pemberley.”
“None of that Lady Susan business, Elizabeth,” said the countess, stepping forward to greet Elizabeth with an embrace. “Please call me Susan or Aunt Susan. I would not be so formal with those I esteem so highly.”
Elizabeth smiled and nodded, and when Lady Susan pulled back, she regarded them critically for a moment. “Either Mr. Wickham has already made his move and failed, or you have not seen or heard from him.”
“Let us take this to our rooms, Susan,” said Lord Matlock. “You may also attend us, Anne. Wickham made his move, but I think the company would prefer not to be a part of the explanation.”
Lady Susan nodded and turned to Elizabeth. “Are you well?”
“Yes, Aunt Susan,” said Elizabeth. “Mr. Wickham attempted to implement his plans, but we thwarted him. He will not trouble us again.”
“That is well.” Lady Susan took the earl’s arm and gestured to the house. “Then I would appreciate knowing what has happened. Elizabeth and I can speak at greater length this evening.”
Lady Susan did not make an issue of the events of the past days when she returned to the company, other than to inform Elizabeth how pleased she was that she had escaped without injury.
Then she sat and spoke to her, inquiring after her wellbeing and that of the babe, and how she was getting on managing the house.
“If I can be of any help,” said Lady Susan, “please inquire.” Her ladyship smiled. “I know you are capable, my dear, but managing Pemberley is more complex than managing even your husband’s manor house in Hertfordshire.”
“It is,” agreed Elizabeth. “I think I have everything in hand, and Mrs. Reynolds has been a treasure. Should anything arise, I should be pleased to have your assistance.”
Lady Susan assured her it was no trouble and then allowed the subject to rest. Now, two days after the event, the company had recovered from the shock of that night, though it would take some time for full healing.
Elizabeth had noticed that William now watched her wherever she went, not in a possessive way, but as if he was determined to be near at hand should she require his protection.
They both understood the danger had faded, but he did not relent his vigilance and would not for some time.
The genuine surprise of the evening was the behavior of Miss de Bourgh.
Though not well known to Elizabeth, she had been on friendly terms with her in London—her disposition was not one that warmed to friends, and Elizabeth suspected that her mother’s teachings about the distinction between the classes held sway over her, rendering closer friendship problematic.
While they remained in the sitting-room after dinner, she said little, appearing deep in thought, though at other times she cast her gaze around as if she had never seen the place before.
“Mrs. Darcy,” said she later that evening when she was nearby.
Or perhaps it was not happenstance, for Miss de Bourgh had moved from her previous position to one closer to Elizabeth.
While Elizabeth had not noticed it, she now understood from the woman’s look that she wished to say something she did not wish the entire room to overhear.
“Miss de Bourgh,” replied Elizabeth, her voice more cautious than she had intended. “I hope your room is comfortable?”
She appeared to understand Elizabeth had made the comment more for something to say than any apprehension that Pemberley’s staff was not capable of ensuring the maximum enjoyment for her guests.
“It is excellent, as usual. Can I assume you allowed Mrs. Reynolds to handle the particulars? You could not have known the room I usually stay in when I visit.”
“For such matters as those, yes, I allowed her to act as she saw fit.”
Miss de Bourgh nodded and turned to look about the room wistfully. “One day, I thought I would be the mistress of this estate.”
Having some notion of what she was thinking, it was no surprise when she spoke. Not wishing to offend, Elizabeth thought about her answer before replying.
“I can see how that might be a shock.”
“Do not concern yourself, Mrs. Darcy,” said Miss de Bourgh, turning back to her with something almost like a smile.
“As I told you before, I would have wed my cousin, but I had no intention of vying for your husband. Mama might speak of the benefits of uniting Rosings and Pemberley, but I did not even know Mr. Darcy.”
“To own the truth,” said Elizabeth, “when your mother was here making her case, I never considered what your opinion was.”
“Nor should you have. I was unknown to you—for all you knew, I might have been an image of my mother.”
Elizabeth nodded but did not speak. Miss de Bourgh needed no prompting to continue.
“I thought to inform you that I do not begrudge you the position you now hold. Rosings is mine, and I am content with it. Please accept my best wishes for your happiness and success—Pemberley is an excellent house and deserves proper stewardship.”
“Those are my thoughts exactly,” replied Elizabeth, pleased that rancor did not lie between them.
For a moment, silence reigned. Then Miss de Bourgh, glancing around to ensure no one overheard them, leaned a little closer to Elizabeth.
“You would not know, as we have not announced it yet, but I am to marry Anthony.”
That was a surprise. “I had no notion. There did not appear to be anything between you.”
Miss de Bourgh nodded. “The marriage is not a love match, though I am fond of Anthony and know he feels the same for me. My mother never thought a season was necessary, as she was determined I would marry my cousin Darcy. When Darcy perished, she transferred her hopes to your husband. I have attended events this past season, but to own the truth, I have no patience for the displays required in the first circles.”
“It is a prudent match,” ventured Elizabeth.
“Entirely prudent,” agreed Miss de Bourgh.
“Anthony, though he appears to lack seriousness, is a conscientious man who will do well both managing Rosings and my mother. He is a younger son in need of a wife possessing a fortune, and I need a husband, one fit to my needs. I believe we will do well together.”
“Then I am pleased for you,” said Elizabeth, pressing Miss de Bourgh’s hands. “Since the first moment I met him, I understood his quality. And any man who marries you must have the stamina to resist the irresistible force that is your mother.”
“Exactly,” said Miss de Bourgh, this time a wide smile forming.
Elizabeth followed her gaze to Colonel Fitzwilliam and noticed him watching them.
With exaggerated slowness, he winked at them and turned back to William, whose eyes were also on them, though on Elizabeth far more than her companion.
Having witnessed the exchange, Elizabeth wondered if Miss de Bourgh was more emotionally invested in Colonel Fitzwilliam than she thought, but she would never make such a claim.
“As our husbands are excellent friends, we will be in company often,” said Miss de Bourgh, drawing Elizabeth’s eyes back to her. “In light of that, I think it would be advisable to dispense with formality.”
“If that is agreeable to you, I have no objection.”
“Thank you, Elizabeth,” said Anne. “I hope we shall be friends.”
As Anne walked away, Elizabeth reflected on their conversation. Elizabeth thought the path to friendship was open, but she did not suppose it would be an especially close friendship. Anne was an estimable sort of woman, so Elizabeth had no objection.
IN THE ENSUING DAYS , events moved apace.
Mr. Wickham was in prison in Lambton and would never leave it as a free man, and the earl arranged for Mrs. Younge to join her confederate in the north.
No one cared enough for either to speculate on the conversations that passed between two condemned prisoners in adjoining cells, but Darcy suspected they were not at all cordial now, when remorse and rage had no more meaning.
“When we confronted her,” said the earl, “I said her only chance to avoid the hangman’s noose was to confess at once, but I cannot ignore her part in this.”
“She confessed knowing the chances were not good,” said Fitzwilliam. “I would be put out with you if you spared the life of a woman who was just as much the cause of my cousin’s death as her paramour.”
The earl nodded, and that was the last anyone said on the subject in Darcy’s hearing. It was less than two weeks later that the pair stood in a court, the evidence against them and the word of an earl leaving no possibility of any other outcome. The sentence was carried out two days later.
Darcy did not feel satisfaction, but relief.
A man’s ability to protect his family was all he had, threats against those he loved personal, uncertainty a blow to his equanimity.
As Darcy had no background with Wickham other than a few meetings in less than ideal circumstances, he had no memories to tug at him and no sympathy to intervene.
Wickham had been a man who had murdered his cousin, had terrorized his family, and for that alone, his absence from the world was welcome.
“My cousin was close to Wickham as a child,” said Fitzwilliam the evening of the execution when the gentlemen remained in the dining-room with brandy after dinner.
“It was not just an association for convenience?” asked the earl, drawing circles around the rim of his glass. “There were few boys Jameson’s age in the neighborhood.”