Chapter Twenty-Six
As Mr Bridges had predicted, the family woke to a snow-covered countryside before the week’s end.
Thankfully, the household had no engagements, and so the female occupants mostly stayed indoors–that is–after the adventure that Elizabeth and Jane had early in the morning, exercising in the garden and throwing snowballs at one another.
The men went out to assess the state of the roads, and the younger ladies all ventured out into the gardens after breakfast, coming in to warm themselves after trying their hand at sketching icicles and other sparkling garden delights.
They returned indoors red-faced from the invigorating fresh air, changed into comfortable indoor clothes, and most of them set to working in the music room on Lydia’s first proper music lesson, while Elizabeth occupied the drawing room with Mrs Bingley and Mrs Hurst.
“Where is Miss Kitty?” Jane asked the girls.
“She was not ready to leave her room. She will join us soon,” Mary assured her.
The men returned; and as he always did, Colonel Fitzwilliam found his way to the music room and was a lively addition to their company, as he always was.
“What is the state of the roads, Colonel?” Jane asked him as he accepted a cup of tea from Mrs Annesley and took a seat where he could observe the friendship and frivolity of the younger ladies.
“They are not too bad, Miss Jane,” he replied.
“The snow is not too deep to be packed down. There is a covered barn filled with loose soil on each estate waiting for such conditions. The farm workers are grateful for the work. They are all out hard at it, packing down the snow on the lanes, then a wagon follows and spreads a small amount of dirt over them to help the carriage wheels and the horses. Another few inches, and it might have been too deep for such measures. Bingley and the steward are confident that the roads will be in acceptable condition for you all to make it to Lucas Lodge and back home tomorrow night safely, and by Monday, all of the roads should be cleared enough for the Collinses to make it safely home. Darcy and I will have no trouble on horseback on the route to London tomorrow.”
“The rest of us at Netherfield ought to be grateful for that, but I do regret that you and Mr Darcy must leave us for such an unhappy reason, and that you must manage such sad affairs while you are gone.” Jane spoke as she worked quickly on Mrs Bingley’s wrap.
She had finished the embroidery pattern, and began the beaded fringe with small pearls and green glass beads.
Jane had seen the Corbeau green ball gown on a visit to Mrs Bingley’s dressing room with Lizzy, and she was impressed.
She had been uncertain about the dark green thread that Elizabeth had insisted she use on the wrap.
Corbeau green was such a dark colour that it was nearly black, and typically worn by men, on tail coats, waistcoats, and more.
Mr Bingley’s waistcoat was to match Mrs Bingley’s gown, and the shimmering white wrap with the dark green embroidery and beaded fringe would be the perfect complement to the ensemble.
“It will bother Darcy more than me, I am afraid.” Colonel Fitzwilliam scowled.
“I am two years older than Darcy, and three years older than Wickham. I being the eldest–always saw through Wickham with ease, and so have no tender memories of him. Darcy was always too close to see him as he truly was–that is–until Wickham learnt to resent his best friend and began to turn against him at every opportunity. Still, it was Darcy’s second year of university before he truly accepted that Wickham’s nature was formed, and began to distance himself completely from the wretch. ”
“What will happen to him?” Jane asked.
“If it goes through the criminal courts, he will hang. If it goes through the army, it will be the firing squad. The best we can do for Wickham is use our influence to determine that question. My father and I have the influence to convince his colonel and the war office to let the matter go through the criminal courts, in which case, hanging would be a more uncomfortable end for Mr Wickham. It hardly seems worth the trouble in my opinion, but to use the opportunity to help someone if we can, we will make it clear to Wickham that we will not hesitate to interfere to his detriment unless he cooperates fully.”
“How so?” Jane asked curiously.
“Well there is a young woman he left with child to consider,” Fitzwilliam said uneasily.
“He held her for ransom, and now she is in love with him, and with child. Her father is determined that at sixteen, she is not at all ready to be a wife, and that to marry her to a stranger and send her away would be to her greatest detriment. Her father wishes her to marry Wickham, before the execution, which will allow her to be a widow. Her parents will keep her at home and help her raise her child for some years, until she is ready to take a husband and manage a home. The man claims she is far too sheltered and immature now, and, I must admit, Darcy and I met the young lady. She is even more guileless and childlike than Georgie.”
“Oh dear,” Jane fretted. “But what about the poor girl’s reputation? To be the widow of an executed man!”
“Darcy believes that we can use the option for a quicker death to convince Wickham to marry the girl at Flitwick Manor where he is being held before we leave for London so that we will turn him over to the army, where he will be sentenced to the firing squad instead of the noose. Like you, I do not believe bearing the name of a dangerous criminal will help her in the long run. But Darcy has thought of that. Instead of taking Wickham’s name, she will take that of his dead mother, which was Lovett.
A man may revert to an old family name upon his nuptials, which Wickham will sign the register for, and then he will arrive in London and die under his real name, grateful to die faster by the firing squad, than the possibly slow death by strangulation if his neck does not break during a public execution. ”
“But how will that affect her? To marry the man she loves, only for him to be dragged away, leaving there to die? We all know it must happen, but a girl with an under-developed mind, well, it might ruin her disposition for life,” Jane tutted.
“I am in agreement with you, but her father insists that this is a far better option than sending her away to be married before she is ready. They will wait until after the child is born, and then tell her he died while away on business. I sense the girl is just this side of simple, and the father realises that she may never be ready for marriage. He says that if it is never an option, he will leave her inheritance in the hands of trusted relations who will look after her, since she has no siblings.”
“What a shame.” Jane shook her head. “I will pray for her.”
Next the topic turned towards Lady Catherine. “Mrs Bennet was rather unconcerned about how the news made it to Hunsford, but Elizabeth and Mrs Bingley were quite curious as to how Mr Darcy’s aunt learnt of the betrothal.” Jane snipped a thread, then moved to the next section of fringe.
“Darcy was thankful that he was not obliged to speak of it at dinner last night.” Colonel Fitzwilliam grinned. “But you will never guess in a million years who it was that informed her, Miss Jane.”
“Tell me,” Jane insisted.
“What gentleman was recently so crushed by Elizabeth’s engagement to another man, that he was quite willing to ruin her future, just for the sake of taking something from Darcy?” Colonel Fitzwilliam looked ready to burst.
“No! You simply must be joking!” Jane hissed. “Mr Crawford?”
“The very same,” The colonel laughed. “He wrote to her ladyship the moment he arrived in Northamptonshire. It is not in any doubt that Mr Crawford probably heard of the fictitious cradle engagement from Mr Collins, but Darcy will not hold Elizabeth’s cousin responsible, he will only speak to the man and ask that Mr Collins not gossip about his affairs, not only with Lady Catherine, but anyone except him or Elizabeth. ”
An hour later, Jane stowed the wrap in the bag and made her way up the stairs for a tool from Elizabeth’s sewing box, which the lady was kind enough to leave in their shared sitting room for Jane’s convenience.
After a moment of frantic rummaging, she found what she was looking for.
If she worked all through the day and evening, and perhaps into the night, she might actually finish the wrap tonight, and begin another search of the attics tomorrow.
She had seen a quantity of soft, supple leather, just the type to serve well as slipper soles, in a chest of remnants, and some other thin leather that could be made into fine tassels.
It would be the work of a moment to find a suitable remnant of heavy brocade to make Mr Bingley a pair of house slippers for Christmas, and she ought to have just enough time to have them ready for Christmas if she worked diligently in the meantime.
As she left her room, she heard sobbing coming from another bedroom. She stood in the hall and stared at the door, realising that Kitty Bennet had never joined the other ladies downstairs. She knocked at the door and heard a gasp, a flurry of commotion, and Kitty’s voice call out, “Come in!”
Kitty looked up from her pile of skirts upon the bed as Jane entered and said, “Oh, it is you.”
“Oh dear, do not throw me a parade. I fear your excitement at my arrival might go to my head.” Jane approached a chair that was rather near the bed that Kitty was laying on in a pile of taffeta. “Why did you not join the other ladies downstairs?”