Page 36 of To Love And To Cherish (Pride And Prejudice Variation #3)

The morning after the ill-fated dinner, Fitzwilliam Darcy departed London.

He rode ahead on Ares, his stallion, while Georgiana and Miss Kitty Bennet followed in the carriage.

The spring air was crisp, carrying the faint sweetness of blossoms and fresh-turned earth.

A second carriage conveyed Jenny, Georgiana’s maid, and James, Darcy's valet, alongside their luggage.

On the third day, nearing dusk, Darcy signaled the coachman to halt. The road had brought them to the crest of a wooded hill. "We will stop here, Georgie," he said, dismounting. "Show Miss Bennet your home."

Kitty stepped down and gasped. Across the valley, nestled on rising ground and backed by wooded hills, stood Pemberley House. The stream that meandered before it reflected the fading sun.

"Georgiana," Kitty whispered, hand to her mouth, "your home is beautiful. I congratulate you."

Darcy watched her, and for a moment saw Elizabeth as she might have been at sixteen, curious, earnest, vibrant.

His chest ached. If only it were Elizabeth standing here now.

The thought struck like a jolt, and his heart lurched with longing and regret.

But no matter how his soul yearned, society would never deem her worthy, and he had Georgiana to consider. She, too, must marry well.

Yet, Elizabeth had more.

She was thoughtful. Learned. Kind. She had studied at her father’s knee and had dreamed of becoming a doctor.

She possessed a mind equal to his. Elizabeth remained untouched by society’s strictures, unspoiled, unbroken.

He sighed, then said, “Back into the carriage, ladies.

We shall reach Pemberley in about twenty minutes. "

Pemberley was peaceful. Within a fortnight, Jane and Bingley arrived, newly returned from their wedding tour. Two days later, Darcy and Bingley set out to view Ashover Lodge. In the week following, they visited Meadow-spring Manor and then Nether Stoke Hall.

At Nether Stoke, Darcy walked the grounds with Bingley. "The roof is sound. The stables are well-built and maintained, and the fields are well-drained and well-fenced. The house needs only minor refurbishments, nothing major."

The steward, when asked, explained, "The heir has no wish to manage a second estate. He will reside in the principal one, and with a child on the way, he means to simplify."

Bingley soon took Jane to view the property, and she approved. It was but eight miles from Pemberley. Bingley sent word to his solicitor to proceed with the purchase.

The days at Pemberley passed pleasantly for the women. One morning, Jane and Kitty embroidered handkerchiefs while Georgiana read The Mysteries of Udolpho aloud.

"This novel is thrilling," said Georgiana, eyes wide.

Jane smiled. "Though I do wish poor Emily would faint less."

That afternoon, as the fire crackled in the drawing room at Pemberley, a letter addressed to Kitty arrived bearing a Scottish postmark.

Papa had forwarded it from Longbourn. The handwriting, unmistakably Elizabeth’s, caught the attention of all present.

Jane’s eyes brightened with quiet longing, and she turned to Kitty with a gentle plea.

“Do read it aloud, if you please,” she said, “I cannot wait another moment to know how she fares.”

Kitty, already unfolding the letter with interest, took a steadying breath. Darcy, seated by the hearth with a volume in hand, said nothing. He dared not ask to hear the letter read aloud, but the hope that someone would do so had coiled tightly in his chest from the instant he saw the seal.

Kitty began:

Dalmore House, Dava Moor

May 20, 1811

My dear Kitty,

I scarcely know how to begin, for my head is full and my heart fuller still.

The journey north was long but remarkably pleasant.

The roads were firm underfoot, and we were glad for the cool, dry air.

Spring in the north is a thing of quiet grandeur: the hills are alight with wildflowers, and the birch and rowan are lovely to behold.

Miss Trent has proved a most steadfast friend, cheerful, sensible, and unfailingly resourceful.

Mary King, though more reserved, has shown admirable courage in undertaking such an uncertain voyage.

We share stories at night by the fire and have laughed at each other's foibles.

I am grateful beyond measure for their companionship.

We arrived two days ago at Dalmore House, the seat of the Allister family.

It is the estate Mary King is to inherit.

Her Uncle Allister met us at the gate in a tam and greatcoat, with a smile broad as the River Spey.

He had peat burning in every hearth and the kitchen in a bustle preparing bannocks and trout.

The flatbread filled the house with a warm, fragrant aroma that set our mouths watering and made us suddenly aware of our hunger.

You would like Mr. Steafan Allister, Kitty; he is at once gruff and tender, the very image of Highland hospitality.

That evening, as the wind howled down from the moor, he warned us in hushed tones of the Cusìth, a great green hound of legend said to steal women away if they venture too far afield alone. He told it so solemnly I felt the shivers up my spine and have kept to well-marked paths since.

Tomorrow we ride to Carrbridge to meet the Frazier family.

There are four brothers, though the eldest, Adam, is the newly made Laird and, by all reports, 'looking about him’ for a wife.

Mary is to be introduced, and we shall see whether they suit.

He is said to be serious-minded and kind. I pray it goes well for her.

Send my love to dear Jane. I have written to her at Netherfield, though I know she is away on her wedding trip, so I may not hear from her for several weeks.

Direct your letters to Castle Roy, Carrbridge, as we shall reside there for the next five months to allow Mary time with her prospective suitor.

Do write soon, I think of you all every day.

Yours ever,

Elizabeth

Kitty folded the letter and gave a wistful sigh.

Jane blinked rapidly, then brushed away a tear that had slipped down her cheek.

Georgiana reached for her embroidery but held the needle still as she thought aloud.

“Lizzy was to write to me. My letter must be at Darcy House. I do hope it arrives soon.”

Darcy said nothing. His gaze remained fixed upon the dancing flames, though he heard every word.

Adam Frazier.

Newly made Laird.

Looking about him for a wife.

And Elizabeth, his Elizabeth, was traveling to meet him at this very moment.

His stomach twisted.

The elder Frazier would have no eyes for Mary King if Elizabeth Bennet were present. Darcy knew it as surely as he knew his own name. She would enchant the man, how could she not?

He ought to rejoice for her. Had he not promised himself he would be contented if she found happiness, even if it were not with him?

But he was not contented. He was jealous, bitterly, wretchedly jealous, and it was a new and miserable sensation. One he had never before endured. It hollowed out his chest and thudded behind his ribs like a second heartbeat.

And now she was in Scotland. Meeting a laird. A Highland laird looking for a wife.

Darcy closed his book and rose, crossing to the window as though fresh air alone could cool the fire burning in his veins.

He was not happy for her.

He was afraid, for himself, and for all he stood to lose. Darcy excused himself and was soon outside, walking as if the devil himself were at his heels.

The little party quickly fell into an agreeable routine: in the evenings, Darcy and Bingley played chess or billiards, Georgiana practiced the pianoforte, and Kitty read aloud to Jane while she sewed for the poor.

Darcy often found himself listening more than playing, his gaze drawn to the quiet tableau of contented domesticity.

It was late May, and a storm had raged the entire day, turning the roads into tracks of mud. The party had gathered in the drawing room, each occupied by their own pursuits, when wheels quietly crunched on the drive.

Darcy rose. At the window, he froze. "Bingley," he muttered, "I believe your sister has arrived."

"It cannot be," Bingley said, leaping up. He peered out. "She’s with Aunt Agatha."

"Did you write your aunt?"

"No, but perhaps my Yorkshire cousins said something. I avoided Caroline completely since she had been so abominable to Jane."

"I thought you meant to arrange a match for her?"

"She doesn’t wish to marry," Bingley said, then added sheepishly, "anyone but you."

Darcy grimaced. "I’ve never encouraged her. Never."

The front door opened. He turned to Bingley. "She is not welcome. She may stay one night, no more. You must send her away in the morning."

"Agreed."

The butler entered. "Miss Caroline Bingley."

Caroline swept in, flushed. "Mr. Darcy, Miss Darcy, Jane, Charles, how lovely."

Bingley stood. "What are you doing here, Caroline? You weren’t invited."

She laughed. "You tease! Of course I’m invited if you and Jane are."

"You are not. Darcy has agreed to one night. Tomorrow, you must leave."

She turned to Darcy. "Surely, Mr. Darcy, you do not mean that?"

His voice was cool. "I do. You have treated some of my guests with evident disdain while in their company at Hertfordshire. I will not suffer that behavior under my roof."

Her gaze swept the room until it landed on Kitty.

"What is Eliza doing here? How dare she presume?"

She strode forward and struck the young woman, who was taken entirely by surprise.

Bingley seized her elbow. "This is Miss Catherine Bennet . And this is why you are not welcome."

Jane knelt beside her sister. “Your skin has not been broken, Kitty. We’ll apply a compress and, God willing, it will bruise no further. Come upstairs."

Georgiana joined them.

Bingley turned. "Where shall I put her?"

"Next to your room. I’ll have a footman stationed in the hall. If she comes anywhere near me tonight, I will not marry her. Understand, Miss Bingley? Nothing you do will compel me."

Caroline sneered. "You’ll pay for this. You should have married me years ago."

"Come, Caroline," Bingley said, leading her out.

Darcy turned to the butler. "Shut up the house, we are retiring early. Have Miss Bingley’s carriage ready by eight o’clock. And send up a tray to her room; she is to breakfast alone."

"Yes, sir."

Upstairs, Georgiana asked softly, "Kitty, shall I stay with you? Are you afraid?"

Kitty nodded. "I didn't know she hated Lizzy so. What could Lizzy have done to her?"

"She hates all Bennets. She never wanted Jane to marry Charles."

Kitty frowned. "Please stay with me. But Miss Bingley may come in the night, and you could be injured."

"I will stay. I do not believe we have anything to fear; our footman is both reliable and strong. But Miss Bingley is clever, and it is best we be prepared to help one another should she come at us tonight."

The girls prepared for bed and fell asleep in one another’s company, comforted by friendship in the face of cruelty.