Chapter Twelve
Elizabeth was delighted when her aunt insisted on joining them for dinner. She and Fitzwilliam had a great many matters to discuss as they began their lives as a married couple, and it pleased her that Aunt Olivia was well enough to participate in at least some of the conversation.
“Now,” Fitzwilliam said, as the remnants of their meal were cleared away, “we agreed to discuss where you would prefer to live in town, Elizabeth. I know Darcy House is on the small side for a family, but we could use the adjacent home as well.”
Fitzwilliam stood to offer his arm to her aunt and they all made their way to the drawing room. He spied a drawing on the wall and addressed Georgiana. “I see you and Father have reemerged at last.”
“It travels with me,” Georgiana replied. “I am never without it.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Russell said, giving the girls an affectionate smile. “That was one of Elizabeth’s earliest efforts, was it not, Lizzy?”
He husband started; he leaned in to examine the drawing. “Why did you not say something?” he asked as he led them all back to the settee.
“I wanted to see if you would discover it on your own,” Elizabeth gently taunted him. “Alas, you never did.”
After they were settled closely together and near the fire, Elizabeth asked the question she had been considering.
“How will you acquire the other townhome, Fitzwilliam?” She was certain from the sly expression on her husband’s face that he was about to reveal another surprise, like the annual income of Pemberley being augmented with investments of his own and two smaller estates that were currently let out.
“Surely the residents are not interested in decamping.”
Her husband had shared a smile with his sister. “We hold the lease on that home as well, Elizabeth. My father intended to open the wall between them and create a single dwelling as a gift for my mother.”
There was no need to ask why the work had never been done.
“Are there currently tenants in residence?”
Fitzwilliam nodded and stood to pour himself some wine. “There are. In truth, the cost of the original lease is paltry in comparison to the rents I collect now. It is almost enough to pay for the lease on both properties.”
Elizabeth wished to be fair, so she did consider it. The location was fashionable, but in the end, that was all it had to recommend it. Should they embark upon a campaign of improvements to expand its size, they would spend money. If they let out Darcy House, they would make money.
It made more sense to remain where they were, close to the greenhouses and on their own property.
“If you do not have a particular attachment to the townhouse, it would be wise to rent out your current residence as well and collect the profit. This home is freehold; thanks to Uncle Phillip, we own the home and the land outright.”
“Unless,” Aunt Olivia added, “you worry about the location. We still have the property in Russell Square, Lizzy.”
“I love it here,“ Georgiana announced suddenly, then glanced worriedly at her brother. “Of course, I have not lived at Darcy House since father passed, but town is so…”
“Not like the country?” Fitzwilliam asked, when it seemed clear Georgiana would not finish her thought. “As your drawing already hangs on the wall, I believe we know where you would prefer to reside, Georgie.”
Georgiana smiled brightly, and Elizabeth shared a look with Aunt Olivia.
“This house was left to me by my uncle,” Elizabeth said, touching her husband’s arm. “If you do not object, I should prefer to remain here.”
“It would be an ideal location to breed those fancy horses you and Elizabeth love so much,” Aunt Olivia declared. “You are bound to earn an inflated price for them here in town.”
Fitzwilliam smiled. “I owe the next to Richard,” he admitted.
Elizabeth shook her head. “Richard still has a decent horse to ride. Jane will get hers first. It can be a wedding present.”
“Fair enough,” he conceded. “It appears unanimous, then.” He poured everyone a small glass of wine before raising his own. The women joined him. “To Russell House.”
At his declaration, Aunt Olivia’s expression transformed to a mixture of astonishment and tender regard.
When Fitzwilliam took her aunt’s hand and kissed it, Aunt Olivia actually blushed.
When she recovered her composure, she turned to Elizabeth and said, “Spending these weeks with you, seeing you with your young man, Lizzy—it has made me very happy.”
Elizabeth embraced her aunt, not releasing her until the older woman swatted her shoulder. “Very well, Lizzy. I know you love me.”
Everyone laughed at that, although when Elizabeth sat up, she hurriedly dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. She was careful to always have one with her these days.
“One more bit of advice from an old woman,” Aunt Olivia said, glancing first at Elizabeth and then at Fitzwilliam. “You two will need to select a staff to help you manage your holdings.”
“That has not been necessary in the past, Aunt Olivia,” Elizabeth replied. “We each have stewards for our properties and a solicitor here in town.” She looked at her husband, whose brow was furrowed.
Aunt Olivia shook her head, amused. “It has never been necessary because you have not been married.” She gave her niece a knowing look.
“Should you wish to ever see one another, Lizzy, you will both of you hire a personal secretary and solicitors for your various projects. It will take some time for you to sort it out.” She sipped a little wine.
“It took years before Phillip yielded to the necessity, but we were far happier afterwards.” She placed her wineglass on the table and folded her napkin.
“You two have a combined fortune that should ensure the family thrives for many generations—if you handle it properly now. Wealth is not only a privilege…“ She eyed Elizabeth expectantly.
“It is a responsibility,” Elizabeth finished. She noticed that Fitzwilliam was nodding in agreement.
“Well,” Georgiana said suddenly, an impish grin on her face, “since we are all so very wealthy, perhaps you will accompany me to Bond Street tomorrow, Lizzy?”
“Whatever for, Georgie?” Elizabeth replied, pretending to groan. “Have you not had enough shopping with Anne?” She looked askance at her newest sister. “I suppose it would be too much to hope that you wish to visit Hatchard’s?”
“I am sure we can find something,” her friend replied, with a toss of her head.
Her golden ringlets bobbed merrily. “If wealth is a responsibility, we ought to support the merchants and the modistes. It is the economically responsible thing to do.” She maintained a serious expression throughout her little speech only to dissolve into giggles when her brother raised his eyebrows at her.
Olivia Russell sat at her writing table sprinkling sand on a letter to her niece as the candle flickered next to her.
She had felt unusually well after Lizzy’s wedding.
Well enough to remove to St. James’s for a week to allow the new couple their privacy and well enough to return when that sojourn was over.
It had been a shock to hear Fitzwilliam announce that he and Lizzy would use the Russell name for this house, but it should not have been.
Phillip had thought highly of the boy, and she thought even more highly of the man.
Still, the gratitude she felt that Phillip would not be forgotten was surprisingly powerful.
Her gaze moved to the wall. She thought about Georgiana and how the girl carried her small framed portrait of her and her father to wherever she was living.
She understood the urge. The portrait Lizzy had drawn of her and Phillip had traveled with her when she had first returned to London, and now hung above her escritoire.
It gave her peace to have him watching over her.
She could feel Phillip here in a way she did not in town.
Although he had never lived here, Phillip had chosen this room for the two of them particularly—the care he had taken with the repairs and restoration was as much for her comfort as for Lizzy’s, though they had both intended from the beginning that the home would be willed to the daughter of their hearts.
Yes, she had felt somewhat stronger these past several weeks.
She had even joined Lizzy and Fitzwilliam at dinner several times, basking in the bliss of the newly married couple.
Georgiana had returned from her visit with Miss de Bourgh only yesterday, and after their business had been resolved, the girls had taken great delight in one another’s company.
They seemed mostly to relish teasing Fitzwilliam.
Olivia enjoyed the banter, but she was fatigued, retiring long before the others.
It struck her now, as she readied herself for bed, that she ought not to put off finishing her letter any longer.
That was now accomplished. She folded and sealed it, writing Lizzy’s name on the outside in the spidery script old age and illness had forced upon her.
How she detested that outward sign of weakness.
“I am ready, Phillip,” she said aloud. “Lizzy is settled, and so am I.”
“Aunt Olivia seemed well tonight, do not you think?” Elizabeth asked as Fitzwilliam slipped into their bed. “Oh!” she squealed. “Your feet are cold.”
“Yours are warm,” he said, his sonorous voice making her tingle all over. He turned onto his side and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Surely my loving wife will not allow me to freeze.”
“How am I to warm your enormous feet when they are twice the size of my own?” Elizabeth teased. “Stretch them out towards the bedwarmer.”
“You are my bedwarmer,“ he replied, enfolding her in his embrace and pulling her to his chest.
“Your hands are like ice,” she protested, her teeth beginning to chatter.
“Just another minute or so and we shall both be warm,” he assured her.
”I was warm,“ she chided him as she shivered.