Chapter Thirteen #2
“Oh, just wait,” Elizabeth said, nodding towards Miss Bingley. Lady Sophia, Penelope, and Amanda had surrounded Mr. Bingley’s unmarried sister and gaily maneuvered her off to the corner for a chat. “She may eventually gain what she desires, but she will have to work for it.”
The last thing she saw before the music started was Miss Bingley’s eyes opened wide in something akin to panic.
May 1, 1812
“Is he out in the stable?” Richard Fitzwilliam asked his cousin the moment he entered Netherfield’s library.
Darcy turned from the largely empty shelves and rolled his eyes. “Yes, Richard, it is good to see you as well. How are your parents? How are the viscount and his lovely wife?”
“Do not attempt to distract me,” Richard snorted.
“You already know how we are. In your absence, we all had to pay court to Aunt Catherine this Easter. You may owe me more than an Arabian.” He slouched against the bookshelf closest to the door.
“Besides, when you call Maggie lovely, I know you are being sarcastic, and it does not suit you.”
“It is not my fault Anne enjoys torturing her mother,” Darcy replied calmly. “In fact, I am satisfied she seems to be taking some pleasure from my marriage.”
“It was a spectacle,” Richard said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Anne had already told her mother everything—that Elizabeth was not a penniless chit who was after Pemberley, that you were not a man being led by his . . .” Here he rolled his eyes. “You know.”
“I am pleased to have missed it,” Darcy said. He was. He would not have been able to maintain his composure, he was sure of it.
“In any case, she would not believe it. She was ready to fly to Kensington on her broom, intent on denouncing the pair of you for sullying the family honor. Even when Father confirmed that Bedford himself gave the bride away, she would not cease.”
“Perhaps you should just tell me how it all ended, Richard,” Darcy said flatly, feeling his temper beginning to kindle despite his best efforts.
He had wanted to burn the letter Lady Catherine had sent upon the occasion of his marriage—with her impeccable timing it had arrived, full of invective, just after the reading of Olivia Russell’s will.
He had not wanted to allow Elizabeth to read it, but she had coaxed it from him.
He hardly recognized himself in the man who was helpless to refuse his wife.
He should not even have bothered to protest.
Elizabeth had found the letter delightful, much to his chagrin.
She had pointed out the best of the insults and laughed away his affront.
“Your Aunt Catherine is an old woman with nothing to do but order the world to her liking,” she had said as she handed the letter back.
“When the world does not do as she bids, there is bound to be disappointment.” His responding missive had been icily proper, and in it he had severed their relationship until she deigned to apologize.
Unsurprisingly, no such apology had been forthcoming.
It had been the happiest Easter he had spent in many years.
Elizabeth had asked the Gardiners to come and stay for a few days.
He had found them sensible, pleasant, fashionable people.
Their four children had delighted in all the room outdoors to roam and play; Georgiana had quite fallen in love with them.
In the evenings, Elizabeth sketched the children, all the women played and sang, and the men took turns reading.
His holiday had, for once, been a scene of domestic felicity.
Richard pushed himself upright and raised his eyebrows. “How do you think it ended?”
“Will Anne come to stay with your mother for the season?” Darcy hoped his cousin’s health would continue to improve were she away from Rosings for a time.
“Anne may enjoy tormenting her mother, but she does love her.” Richard shrugged. “We may get her to town for a month or so, but I doubt she will stay longer.”
Darcy nodded. It was something.
“Now, I must ask why you are gathering us all together here at Netherfield, of all places. It is not like you to be secretive.” Richard considered his words. “Never mind. It is exactly like you. It seems unusual for your bride, however.” His eyes narrowed. “You cannot be expecting already.”
Darcy rolled his eyes. “We would not ask you all to travel to Bingley’s home to make such an announcement, Richard. Do not be daft.”
“Then what is it?”
“Good God, man,” he burst out, “cease your whining. You will learn it all soon enough.” Darcy was anxious enough about the ensuing family meeting without having to deal with his cousin’s petulance.
He considered how he might feel were Richard keeping something of importance from him and softened.
A bit. “Richard, it is too complicated to go through it now. Please, I promise you will know all very soon.”
There was a knock, and Elizabeth’s head appeared around the edge of the door. “Fitzwilliam,” she called, and smiled when both her husband and Richard turned in response to the name. She stepped into the room, her eyes twinkling. “I love doing that.”
Darcy smiled, his eyes linked with his wife’s.
Richard made a disgruntled sound in his throat. “It has been months,“ he complained. “Can you not behave yourselves in company?”
“Is there company here, dearest?” Darcy asked his wife.
She made a show of looking around the room. “I cannot see any,“ she replied. She laughed at Richard’s exasperation.
Richard bowed to Elizabeth and left, grumbling about something. Elizabeth held out her hand, and Darcy came to take it.
“It is time,” she said.
When Darcy finished speaking, there was silence in the dining room. Mr. and Mrs. Bingley, Richard, and three Bennet sisters all stared at him in various stages of shock. He looked to Elizabeth.
“We know this is something of a surprise,” she said as she stood and took her place next to him. “It was to us when we learned of it.”
“Lizzy, how long have you known? Have you known since last summer?” Jane asked as she regained her composure.
Elizabeth shook her head. “John has been caring for many of the accounts. Aunt wrote me a letter for after… before the will was read.” Darcy took her hand.
“You have known since January?“ Richard inquired, his face reddening. “We were all there for your ball in March! One hundred thousand pounds and you did not think to mention it?”
A little more, in fact. Darcy cleared his throat. “As I think you can all imagine,” he said with some impatience, “there was a great deal of legal work to be completed before we could tell all of you. This was a bequest for the Bennet daughters, but we were left in charge of a number of concerns.”
Elizabeth, said simply, “We wanted to be certain we understood the details before we approached you all.”
“Well, I for one am happy to learn more about investing,” Mary said bluntly. “I should be thrilled to have your help, Lizzy.”
“Me too!” Lydia said, bouncing in her seat. “Shall we each have the whole twenty-five thousand at once?”
“No,” Darcy and Elizabeth replied together. The others laughed.
“It is a great deal of money,” Kitty said, in her unassuming way. “You are married now, Lizzy. I should hate to take what our aunt left for you.”
Darcy cleared his throat again.
“Are you all right, Darcy?” Bingley inquired, his expression amused. “You seem to have caught a cold.”
Elizabeth answered for him. “Aunt left me well off, Kitty. This money is what she would have given Papa for you all had he accepted. He did not feel right about it when he had already taken so much. He has promised you shall have it now, as it is a gift from me.”
Darcy recalled that conversation with pleasure—Mr. Bennet had been entirely vanquished by Elizabeth, tossing his hands up in the air in a manner reminiscent of her own.
The older man had muttered something about officious old women and officious young women, but he had given his permission.
Elizabeth had been triumphant in her victory, and she had been even more passionate than usual that night…
Richard’s suspicious tone broke into his thoughts. “Why am I here, Darcy?”
“You are here, Richard,” he replied, “because you are being made an honorary Bennet sister.”
Elizabeth jabbed him in the side with her elbow.
Darcy grinned, turning his face to hers. “Ow,” he said as the other girls, even Jane, giggled. He turned back to his cousin. “Very well, then. Richard, you are here because Mrs. Russell also wished us to include you.”
“She was very grateful to you for helping to protect us, Richard,” Elizabeth said softly. “Please do not be offended. She did not leave a specific bequest for you but left it to me.”
“I will not take money from either of you.” He stood abruptly. “I think you ought to know better than that, Darce.”
“I told Elizabeth as much, Richard,” Darcy responded, “which is why that is not what we are offering.”
“Richard Fitzwilliam,” Mary snapped, “sit down. You are spoiling what is becoming a lovely afternoon.”
Darcy blinked. Richard scowled at Mary but sat down.
“We plan to expand our horse breeding operation to Kensington,” Darcy said. “We have already begun building a larger, more modern stable at Russell House and there are plans to add another wing to the house. We would like you to spend more time in town and partner with us.”
Richard’s frown deepened. “Horses?”
“Horses,” Darcy confirmed.
Richard rubbed at his eye with his index finger. “Well,” he said slowly, “that might work. Perhaps thoroughbreds as well as Arabians?”
This time it was Mary who rolled her eyes, and Darcy nearly laughed at how embarrassed his cousin appeared as he mumbled his thanks.
Darcy felt his wife squeeze his hand, and he gazed at her. She looked back up at him with the eyes that had captured him from the beginning, and he knew they were brimming with love. For him.
“There is one more thing,” he announced. “It will require work from us all, probably for the rest of our lives—but Elizabeth and I cannot imagine moving forward without you all and Georgiana.” He paused.
“Oh, what is it?” Lydia asked, her hands clasped in expectation of something wonderful.