Chapter 10 A Rousing Song #2
“Oh no, pray do not say that.” I employed a light tone.
“As wondrous as it is to witness him growing and learning by the day, I miss the baby he used to be. Soon he will not allow us to carry him any longer, and I shall be heart-broken.” There—it happened again: Jane’s head dipped, and for a second, furrows lined her forehead.
“You are distressed, are you not? Tell me what is on your mind.”
She shook her head. “No, no. We are here to celebrate your birthday. The last thing I should want is to burden you.”
“What sort of nonsense is this? You are my dearest sister. Pray, tell me what is wrong.”
“Very well.” She raised her eyes to me. “For the past six months, Charles has taken several trips to town. He attended meetings related to a business investment. When I suggested that Charlie and I might accompany him, he made excuses for why we ought to remain at the estate. During his most recent trip, Caroline and her husband, Mr. Ridlington, passed through Staffordshire on the way to their estate and stayed with me for two nights. Whilst Caroline and I strolled around the grounds, she broached the subject of Charles’s trips to London.
She believes that he has taken a…mistress.
” Jane uttered the last word in a whisper.
“No, that cannot be true!” Whereas I had been fortunate to gain Georgiana as a relation, my dear Jane had wed a man with vain and, at times, malicious sisters. For the sake of Jane’s sensibilities, though, I should attempt to maintain my calm.
Her lips tightened. “Many wealthy married gentlemen take mistresses.”
“Yes, because marriages of convenience are prevalent. Our husbands married us for love. How did Caroline reach such an improbable conclusion?”
“She speculated he could not be satisfied with any one lady for long. She asserted that he had believed himself to be in love many times before meeting me only to switch his affections to another in a moment.” Jane’s fingers gripped and twisted the skirt of her dress.
“According to Caroline, their late father had kept several mistresses, and Charles idolised the man.”
Dear me. A lump formed in my throat. It would take a strong character to renounce a revered father’s example.
“What do you think, Lizzy?”
“Charles’s every word and action exemplify his love for you, and you know that Caroline cannot be trusted.”
“In this instance, she has no motive to mislead me.” Jane removed her handkerchief and wiped her tear-stained face.
My poor sister. Fie on Caroline! “I caution you not to believe her. She is not a true friend. We know that Charles’s affections for you endured a separation of almost a year—from the day after the Netherfield ball until the following autumn. Have you spoken to him of your suspicion?”
Jane gasped, and her eyes opened wide. “Of course not! I could never raise that subject with Charles.”
“His recent actions and his sister’s statements have distressed you. You must discuss this with him, for he alone can ease your mind.”
Jane folded her arms across her chest. “I could not do that. What if Caroline is right? I could not bear to hear him say the words aloud. If it is not true, he would be hurt and insulted if I asked.”
“He will understand your concern when you provide an account of what Caroline told you.”
“No, I cannot ask him.”
There had to be a solution. My finger traced my lower lip. “Fitzwilliam could speak to him.”
“Lizzy, no!” My sister hissed the words. “You must not involve him.” She grabbed my wrist. “Promise me you will not!”
“No, fear not. I voiced an idle thought. You must ask Charles yourself. The conversation will be uncomfortable, but he is your husband. You ought to be able to tell him your troubles. I noticed your anguish, and sooner or later, he will as well. Charles may be hurt that you did not trust him enough to raise the subject with him before now.”
“But I am not as bold as you are. I know not whether I can do this.”
I took both of her hands in mine. “You can do this. You are stronger than you know. Talk to him tonight.”
“Oh mercy!” Jane raised her palm to her forehead. “At times I believe anything would be preferable than to allow this suspicion to rankle me. Perhaps you are right. I shall give the matter thought.”
Graham
I entered the rose garden where Lady Catherine’s daughter strolled amidst the bushes on the flagstone path, humming a sunny melody.
“Miss de Bourgh.”
The tune broke off as she halted and turned round. “Good day, Mr. Graham.”
I neared her, offering one of my best smiles. “I hope you do not mind my company for a short while.”
“Not at all.” She bent low to sniff a lone, red bloom.
“The familiar sights have reminded me of past visits. Pemberley changed after the deaths of Darcy’s parents—the estate became a sombre place.
Now, this is a joyful home again. Despite what my mother may think, I am convinced my late aunt, Lady Anne, would approve of Elizabeth. ”
When I held out my arm, she took it. We left the garden and approached a large pond of murky water teeming with life. “I noticed how well you got on with young Bennet.”
“Oh, he is such a charming little boy!” Miss de Bourgh grinned.
“I hope to see a great deal more of him whilst I am here. Releasing my arm, she stepped towards the pond and crouched to inspect a pair of young frogs resting at the verge of the water. After a time, she straightened and turned to me. “I am fascinated by nature’s creatures. Even the ones most would deem unattractive are interesting to me.”
“Well, they all have their function in the world.” I sent out a silent call to a specific variety of lepidopterous insect that she ought to appreciate.
Soon enough, a flutter of movement behind Miss de Bourgh drew my notice.
“Look over there.” I pointed to the vivid swallowtail butterfly that landed on a flowering shrub.
She spotted the colourful insect, and her palms came together. “How extraordinary! I have seen quite a few butterflies in Kent, but none as beautiful as this one.”
“Since you admire wild creatures, may I assume you have a pet cat or dog at home?”
“I have always wanted a dog of my own as a companion.” Miss de Bourgh used a soft, wistful intonation.
“One of our tenants has a delightful cocker spaniel, and I should love to have a similar one.” Her lips pressed flat.
“But my mother would not allow a dog in the house. She considers them to be ‘filthy beasts’ and believes they carry terrible diseases.”
“That is a shame.”
“In my youth, I used to envy the children of our tenants. They were frisky, strong, and content in their lives. They worked and played out of doors while my exposure to the world occurred almost entirely from the windows of our carriages. She took my arm again, and we walked towards the lake.
For a time, I occupied myself in the contemplation of her situation until I formed a suggestion. “If you will pardon the insolence of my question, who owns Rosings Park?”
Her eyebrows rose. “Four years ago, when I reached the age of five-and-twenty, the estate passed to me. Due to my infirm health at the time, I allowed my mother to carry on as mistress.”
“And do you approve of your mother’s management of the estate?”
“No. She is far too intrusive in her dealings with her tenants, just as she is with everyone in her employ.” She angled her head to meet my gaze. “There is no reason now why I should not take over the responsibility.”
“I think that is a splendid idea. Do you expect your mother will protest?”
“Yes, without a doubt. However, I could seek Darcy’s assistance.”
“Oh? What would you have him do?”
“Well, I believe he would support my decision. And if he and Elizabeth would come to Rosings for a se’nnight whilst I took on the new responsibility, I could benefit from his guidance and advice.”
Oh dear. My bearing tensed. “Your thought is a fine one, but Darcy is not the best person to ask. I suggest you seek help from Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
Her chin sank. “Do you believe I would be asking too much of him? I am certain he is busy, but he used to stay at Rosings every Easter and review the estate books for my mother.”
“I did not intend to signify he would be unwilling to help, but he has other obligations that may preclude his visiting your estate in the near future.” Who else could help her?
Oh yes, Lady Catherine’s brother, the earl.
“Notwithstanding, Darcy could write a letter on your behalf to your uncle, Lord Matlock, giving his recommendation that you take over as mistress of Rosings and requesting his assistance to persuade your mother, if necessary. Between Lord Matlock and Colonel Fitzwilliam, you will have sufficient family support against any resistance from Lady Catherine. I intend to see Darcy after I part from you. Shall I appeal to him on your behalf and ask him to write to your uncle?”
“Yes, I thank you. I dare say my uncle trusts Darcy’s judgement in estate matters above anyone else’s.”
“You are most welcome.” An image of her companion came to me, inspiring a new concept. “If you will indulge me, I have another suggestion for you.”
“I should like to hear what you have to say.”
“Very well. I have noticed your close connexion to Mrs. Jenkinson, and I imagine she has been with you for a long time.”
“Yes, for over twelve years.”
“In light of your improved vitality, I think a younger lady would make a more suitable companion—a woman close in age to you who can provide instruction, should you wish it, in music, literature, and languages. I imagine you would be happier with someone who could also accompany you on your walks, ride horseback with you, and be more of a friend than a maternal figure.”