Chapter 13 #2
Oscar Bingley did not miss the distress clearly written on his son’s face.
He knew he would have to make sure that his wife and daughters behaved so that they were not a wedge between his son and his new friend.
There was too much at stake to allow it to be spoiled by the social climbing and pretentions of false superiority the three women of his household indulged in.
The previous week he had been introduced to Edward Gardiner when he paid a call on his landlord.
He knew of Mr Gardiner and had heard incredibly good things about the man’s business acumen, and that Gardiner and Associates were very careful about who they accepted as an investor.
Oscar had applied to Mr Gardiner and, after they had discussed some issues related to their respective businesses, asked if he would be able to invest his savings with the company.
Gardiner had told him that he could not give him an answer right away, but that he would give an answer before they departed after Twelfth Night.
With his wife and daughters fully withdrawn from local society due to the exposure of their lies, Oscar felt that it was a good thing.
The longer he could keep his womenfolk away from the residents at Longbourn, the more confident he would feel about his chances.
Given his reduced income from the carriage works, he calculated that it would take another twelve to fifteen years to have around one hundred thousand pounds in capital saved—the minimum he believed that he would need to purchase a medium-sized estate and still have capital in reserve.
If Gardiner accepted him as an investor, the timeframe could be cut by approximately five years.
While he was not sure that Gardiner would disqualify him on the basis of his family alone, he preferred not to take that chance.
Oscar missed being involved in the day-to-day running of the business.
He was regretting his decision to give into the cajoling that had caused him to decide to withdraw from his enterprise.
He looked forward to his meeting with Bennet, Gardiner, and Phillips on the morrow.
At Longbourn, Bennet had come to a decision.
It was more than six years since his little daughter was taken and he had up till now stubbornly resisted all advice regarding her dowry.
He asked his brother-in-law Gardiner to meet him in his study where he handed him a bank draft for the principal plus accrued interest. He told Gardiner to invest Lizzy’s dowry on one condition, that all money accrued would be held in a separate fund from the rest of the Bennet funds and kept until Lizzy was found and it could be restored to its rightful owner.
Gardiner promised his brother faithfully that he would not risk his daughter’s money on anything that had even a remote chance of failure. The two men raised a glass of port to their daughter and niece hoping she was happy somewhere in the world and well cared for.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
The one time that Mrs Fitzpatrick missed her old life more than any other, and if she would own to it, her former family, was Christmastide.
Toppin was an extremely poor substitute compared to the noble company of the Fitzwilliam and Darcy families.
She berated herself for the maudlin thoughts and reminded herself that the people she had momentarily missed were the ones at whom her wrath was directed.
She had determined not to send her spies to Derbyshire during the winter, worried that they could be easily detected.
As soon as the snow melted, she would send them forth, and once she received fresh information about the two families, she could start to hone in on her plans.
Then she would know how to act, and precisely when to do so.
The widow Fitzpatrick still kept to herself; she had garnered a reputation of being a recluse in Packwood, and this most suited her purposes as she was not attracting any attention from her neighbours.
She gave the Dudleys three days off in December—very magnanimous for one who thought that servants had no need of a holiday, but she had needed to maintain appearances.
Every time that there was a mention of either the Fitzwilliams, the Darcys, and most especially the foundling in the broadsheets she received from London, her mood became especially dark.
In her view of rank and breeding, she could not comprehend how the mongrel had such universal approval when she had had none, even during her come out.
Her conscience barely remembered the poor girl that she had struck so hard that she had caused her death.
It was not the first time that she had been responsible for another human being’s death, and if she had her way, it certainly would not be the last.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
At Falconwood, the Duke of Bedford’s main estate just across the border of Derbyshire in Cheshire, Lady Marie Rhys-Davies was daydreaming of the handsome Lord Andrew, Viscount Hilldale, who she had met when he had accompanied her older brother, the Bedford heir, Lord Peregrine who was called Peri by the family, the Marquess of Birchington, home for a short-term break from Cambridge in October.
At fifteen, Marie knew she was three years away from being out, but that knowledge could not quell the flaming infatuation she felt for the tall and handsome Viscount. He had been a perfect gentleman while he had been Peri’s guest, very polite to her and her younger brother and sister.
She was well aware that she could not vocalise her desires, but she very much hoped that Peri would invite the Fitzwilliam heir home often.
Even though he was only the son of an Earl while she was the oldest daughter of a Duke, that had not stopped Marie imagining that she would be far more than her brother’s sister to the tall sandy blonde-haired Viscount with piercing cerulean eyes.
She cared not what his rank was. Every time that she thought about him, a warm and delicious feeling suffused her body.
She hoped that the object of her dreams saw her as more than a silly girl, and she knew that the three years until she was out would now seem like a lifetime of chances for him to find another.
All she could do was wait and hope that he showed some interest in her when she came out into society.
No matter the mores of the Ton, she was determined that she would marry for love and hoped that once Cupid’s arrow was fired that it would find hers and Lord Andrew Fitzwilliam’s hearts to be matching targets.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
William was nervous as he waited to learn his fate, so to speak, maybe the most nervous he had ever been.
He had no idea whether his cousin would be willing to hear him out or even see him; never mind trying to consider that she would forgive him.
Andrew’s words, “Before you can earn her forgiveness, you will have to win back her trust,” echoed in his head.
He fully understood that it would be an uphill battle to earn back Lizzy’s trust, as it would be for anyone to trust again in this situation, but he hoped that soon he would have leave to call her by her familiar appellation once more because he could not think of her as being so distant which the appellation Lady Elizabeth implied.
When he heard the door open behind him, he held his breath without even realising he was as he turned to see his uncle, aunt, and Lizzy step into the study.
His heart constricted when he watched Lizzy pointedly not look at him but looked past him as if he were not present.
‘This is going to be harder than I imagined!’ he admitted to himself, acknowledging that he alone had caused this deep rift between them.
The three Fitzwilliams sat on one of the settees, a parent on either side of the still small girl to offer her maximum support.
The three looked at him expectantly and he was well cognisant that he may only have one chance to explain himself and beg for Lizzy’s forgiveness.
“Lady Elizabeth,” Darcy said a little shakily, “you have no idea how tortured I have felt once I realised that my misguided attempt to protect you had instead hurt you, and so deeply. I swear to you on my honour that was never my intent. I would rather myself be hurt a thousand times over than inflict the slightest pain on you.” Darcy paused when she took a breath, willing to hear whatever she might say, even if it was to dismiss him from her sight.
“Why are you addressing me so formal?” Lizzy asked, presuming that it meant he wanted to maintain the distance he had created between them and frowned when her father grinned unexpectedly.
“I believe your brothers told your cousin that he had lost the privilege of addressing you informally,” her father clarified. Elizabeth looked at William for confirmation and he nodded that it was so.
“In that case, you may address me as Lizzy, when and if we are in company together,” she said with a sniff. All three looked at William expectantly, waiting for him to continue with his speech.
“As a boy, I thought that I had to solve everything on my own, that it is what was expected of me. I was wrong for I have seen how father and mother confide in one another, and the same with your mother and father. In my misplaced pride I thought I knew the solution to a problem and that it was the only right one, which was wrong on more than one level because it never was an actual problem except in my own head. What I should have done was ask my parents for advice when I first feared what set me on this wrong path.”
“What ideas?” Lizzy asked innocently. Both the Earl and Countess shook their heads very slightly but enough for William to understand that there were certain things that a seven-year-old did not need to be confronted with yet.