Chapter 11 Lady Catherine’s Story #3
Fitzwilliam inclined his head. “I am pleased to accept your praise and shall attempt to keep my pride under good regulation.” He met my eyes. “Although, blessed with a wife as beautiful and wise as yourself and a son as ideal as Bennet, who could blame me if my pride should overflow on occasion?”
“My goodness, such hyperbole! I wonder if you have fallen under Graham’s influence.”
“Not at all. I never exaggerate.” His gaze drifted towards the horizon. “Of late, I have reflected on how fleeting life can be. None of us know how much time we have left.”
A shiver trickled down my back. Could this introspection on his mortality be the reason for his strange mood?
And why did his words gnaw at my peace? He could not be ill; if he suffered from an ailment, should I not have noticed the symptoms before anyone else?
My lower lip quivered, and I closed my mouth to quell the movement.
I pressed my shoulder against him as we went along. “That topic is rather morbid.”
He raised my hand to bestow a kiss. “The material point is the importance of appreciating what I have.” The mere sight of his adoring gaze buoyed my spirits, and I could not fail to return his look with a smile.
“Who could argue with such a lovely sentiment?” An impulse came to me, and I gave him a sportive grin. “Do you see that yew ahead of us?” I released his hand and pointed to the tree.
“Yes, of course.”
“I shall race you there.” Hiking up my skirt, I ran towards the tree.
After a brief delay, Fitzwilliam chased after me and arrived at the tree a second behind me.
With my lungs burning and my chest heaving, I turned towards him. “Did you…let me win?”
“That cannot be considered a fair contest, since you ran off before I understood your intent.” He used an even tone. Somehow, he showed no sign of having exerted himself.
I adjusted my bonnet and retied the ribands. “Yes, but the conditions seemed equitable, since I am obliged to run in a dress and you are not.”
“That is a bizarre bit of logic. However, I must cede to your superior knowledge of how female attire inhibits one’s racing performance.” He pushed an errant tress back inside my bonnet.
“My primary intent had been to distract you with exercise and lighten your mood. I do not fancy I succeeded since you are not even out of breath.”
He took my hand, and we resumed our walk. “I appreciate the effort, though you may be assured I am content. And you manage to distract me as a matter of course regardless of your intentions. His dark eyes riveted upon me. Furthermore, you, my love, always take my breath away.”
Upon our return to the house, Rutley met us with a pained look. “Sir, madam, Lady Catherine has requested your presence in the east sitting room.”
My husband nodded. “Thank you, Rutley.” He met my gaze with his brows lifted, and I shrugged. What could she want now?
As we neared the designated room, my spine locked in a rigid position. Based upon her saturnine deportment the previous day, I had no hope of a pleasant conversation. No doubt she had compiled a list of new missteps I had made or other complaints against me.
But upon my first sight of Lady Catherine, all previous speculation flew from my mind. Red, swollen skin surrounded her eyes, and she sat with her shoulders stooped. What ailed her? At our approach, she leaned on her walking stick more than usual to rise.
I released Fitzwilliam’s arm and hastened towards her. “Lady Catherine, you are ill. Do you require a draught or powders for a headache?”
She blinked at me. “No, no. I am well. Pray sit there, both of you.” She pointed towards the settee.
We sat across from her, and she resumed her seat.
“I owe you both an apology. But first, I shall reveal a significant event in my life—one that left me bitter and induced me towards the views I have held for so many years.”
Lady Catherine paused to take a sip of tea. “At the age of nineteen, I met and fell in love with a young naval officer.”
I suppressed a gasp. Beside me, Fitzwilliam stiffened.
“My brother is the sole living person who might have been aware of our courtship, but he travelled for most of that summer. Lady Anne had not yet made her debut, and I never confided in her. Captain James Weston and I met at a neighbour’s party.
James stayed at the estate as a guest of the eldest son.
His father, though a gentleman, owned a modest estate—“her sight shifted to me—“smaller than your father’s property.”
My goodness. Her parents would not have welcomed the match.
“James became enamoured with me at first sight. Within a fortnight of parties, dinners, and frequent walks together throughout my father’s estate, I fell in love with him.”
Lady Catherine had never revealed such a vulnerable side of herself before—not to my knowledge at least. Her ladyship’s bent posture, the slight tremor in her hands, and even her soft vocal tone made her seem small, frail, and even kind.
She continued her poignant tale and revealed Captain Weston’s tragic death.
If the captain had lived, she would not have had Rosings and the trappings of extreme affluence, but she may have had happiness.
“I had no knowledge of this.” My husband’s solemn words broke through my thoughts. “I am sorry for your loss.”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I echoed his sentiments.
“I thank you both. To my regret, I have not lived my life in a way that honoured the love shared by James and me. Instead, I avoided the sentiment at all costs in a misguided attempt to avoid further heartache and misery.” She raised her tea cup towards Fitzwilliam.
“This is why I clung to the idea of you and Anne marrying. I never expected you and she would be a love match, but I believed you would be friends. I knew you would ensure her safety and well-being. I thought it would be the best possible outcome for both of you. But I was wrong.”
She took a long breath and met Fitzwilliam’s gaze. “As a married man, you are pleasanter than before and clearly more content.”
He flashed a smile in my direction. “Any improvement in me is due to my wife.”
Lady Catherine’s gaze moved to me. “At the time of your engagement, I dare say, anyone would have justifiably been suspicious of you in light of your family’s precarious financial circumstances.
Yet your affection for my nephew is obvious.
I should have recognised the truth sooner, but it seems the acrimony I have harboured for so long made me blind. ”
Fitzwilliam rested his hand atop mine.
“I apologize for every unkind word I have ever said to you. I am ashamed of having drawn Lady Rebecca into my ill-advised scheme, which she had the good sense to abandon. Despite my hostility, you never ceased to treat me with respect and kindness. You are a stronger woman than I am, Elizabeth. It is now plain to me that Darcy chose well for himself.” She lifted the handkerchief from the nearby table and dabbed at the moisture pooling in her eyes.
“I regret that it has taken me so long to acknowledge the truth. Will you forgive me?”
With a deep inhalation, I smiled at her. “I am happy to accept your apology.”
She wiped her eyes again. “I have decided to depart for Bellwood Hall tomorrow and stay there for a week or so. I have not been to my childhood home in years. Anne prefers to remain at Pemberley while I am gone. I trust you do not mind.”
“Fitzwilliam and I are delighted to have her here. She has already formed a rapport with Bennet. Oh, and the toy dog is one of his most prized possessions.”
Furrows formed on her brow. “Of what do you speak?”
“The birthday gift from you and Anne.”
“Oh…um…yes. I am glad to hear it.” Lady Catherine sat straighter. “I commend you for working on your musical skills. Compared to your mediocre performance at Rosings years ago, your playing has improved.”
I bent my head to cast a facetious look towards my husband. It seemed that, despite her new understanding, Lady Catherine would not alter in essentials. I bit my lower lip to temper my smile. “Thank you. In the summer of 1813, I hired a music master and found his instruction to be quite helpful.”
She nodded. “Still, you must be diligent to play each day. Mark my words, your ability will regress unless you practice with attentiveness and constancy. I dare say even with guests in the house, you ought to find time for the activity.”
A glance at my husband revealed him to be smirking. “I shall keep that in mind.” He may enjoy this now, but this evening his aunt will expect him to play quadrille again.
Fitzwilliam tapped upon my arm. “It is time we joined the others in the breakfast room. Lady Catherine, shall you accompany us?”
“No, you two go without me. I had a bite to eat in my room early this morning, and I must speak with Mrs. Jenkinson—she deserves an apology as well.”
We quit the room, and I took advantage of our relative privacy. “Can you imagine how different your aunt might have been as a navy captain’s wife?”
“Indeed, I cannot picture it. In any case, I am glad she apologized to you at last.”
“Yes, and it is all the more valuable since I do not believe she is often repentant.”
“No, she is not.” His sight fell upon me, and his mouth curved in a frolicsome style.
“My aunt’s advice with regards to music has merit.
You can always practice on the pianoforte in the east wing.
You would be in nobody’s way in that part of the house.
” He had scant time to complete the sentence—uttered in an adept imitation of Lady Catherine’s voice—before my hand slipped under his coat, and I pinched his waist. He jerked sideways. “Hey!”
My husband’s outburst and subsequent chuckles startled John, the footman stationed ahead of us, forcing him to shift his weight and sorely testing his ability to maintain his countenance.
Lambton
Graham
I ambled along the road, taking care not to jostle the wicker basket in my hand. Upon my departure from Sarah’s home that morning, I had utilised my enhanced perception for a particular item I sought, prompting my meeting with the local blacksmith, from whom I made my purchase.
Upon my farewell to Sarah, she had been fighting tears, her voice faltering. Although we should cross paths that afternoon at the Darcys’ party, henceforth, we should meet as cordial acquaintances—not as paramours.
An elusive yet persistent impression assailed my quietude.
What could explain my unease? Had I not been truthful with Sarah from the start?
Despite the temptation to exert a subtle influence upon her to ensure her agreement to my overture, I had refrained from doing so.
Of course, most mortal women I encountered had evinced a strong attraction to my person.
Perhaps Clive had been correct: maybe I had erred in choosing so beautiful a body to inhabit.
If I had been more prudent—if I had chosen a more moderate appearance—would Sarah have had an easier time parting from me?
Or would she have never agreed to my proposition?
A sudden consideration prompted an ache to coil in my stomach.
Could Sarah have fallen in love with me?
A review of our time together over the previous evenings brought me reassurance.
No, she could not have done so. From our first meeting, I had divined that her heart belonged to one man, Mr. Nicholas Mead.
During the course of my visits, I had received a fair amount of Nicholas Mead’s thoughts and memories; they lingered in the rooms he once inhabited, which still contained several of his possessions.
Mr. Mead had been an admirable gentleman who had adored his wife.
My company had, for a short time, assuaged Sarah’s loneliness and diverted her longing for another.
Soon after I reached this satisfactory determination, though, Darcy’s plight burst to the forefront of my thoughts.
After giving the matter much contemplation, the stark truth had become clear: I should not take another’s life in order to save Darcy, for to sacrifice anyone in his or her prime of life so he could live would go against his principles.
He would be the first to decry such a suggestion.
During the outdoor party this afternoon, Darcy’s seven-day postponement would elapse. Due to my frustrating inability to see the Darcys’ futures, what would transpire remained a mystery to me. An illness like apoplexy or internal bleeding could befall him or perhaps an accident.
When the time came, I should be there to assist Elizabeth.
Afterwards, I should remain at Pemberley and provide support to her for as long as she needed me.
Mayhap she would one day desire to be my wife.
It might be a long while before this occurred, but I should be patient.
After all, she would be in mourning for a year, and because of Darcy’s standing in the area, strict adherence to the custom would be expected.
Henceforth, I should spend my days and nights at the estate and console Elizabeth as best I could.