Chapter 18
“I must see how Jane is,” Bingley said to Darcy.
“Of course,” Darcy agreed. The two men had made a habit of going for an early morning ride, and Bingley always rushed to his wife’s side when they were done. “I have letters to write and will see you later.”
“Until then,” Bingley concurred and then raced up the staircase which led to the guest suite, his heart thumping. Six months of marriage had not diminished his love for his Jane, and he could hardly wait to see her and discover how she felt today.
He opened the door and looked around eagerly, only to feel his chest constrict at the sight of Jane, seated on a chair by the window, sobbing softly.
“Jane? Jane, what is wrong?” Bingley asked, hurrying forward to embrace her. “Is … is it the baby?”
“No, no!” Jane exclaimed, turning tear stained cheeks toward her husband. “I am well, I assure you, and the babe as well.”
He was on his knees now, his hands cupping her beautiful cheeks. “What is it then, my darling?”
“I am upset about … about the Millers!” she choked out, and burst into tears.
He reached forward and pulled her close to him, rocking her as if she were a child, her beautiful tresses, still unbound, cascading around them both. She cried for a few minutes before sitting back and accepting Bingley’s handkerchief.
“I am so very sorry, my love,” she said, her cheeks flushed with weeping and embarrassment. “I do not know what has gotten into me.”
“I believe a child has gotten into you,” Charles said fondly, slipping onto a chair next to her, though he retained his hold on her hands.
“I well remember my aunt Barbara who, along with her husband and family, lived with us for the six years before I went to Cambridge. She always grew moody and easily distressed when expecting a child. I believe it to be quite normal.”
“It does not feel normal,” Jane said, her lips trembling. “I despise feeling this way, and have been working very hard to not give into my feelings of sorrow. I fear it all caught up with me this morning.”
“Which is entirely reasonable,” Bingley said soothingly. “But do tell me, why are you anxious about the Millers?”
Jane gulped and wiped her eyes again. “I was thinking last night about how terrible it must be for them, to have lost their entire home and all their possessions. They have four children, you know, and the youngest an infant. I cannot imagine how upset Mrs. Miller must be right now. Just think how we would feel if our own children were threatened by a fire, and then we found ourselves homeless, with all our belongings destroyed by the flames!”
“We sent an express to Netherfield,” Bingley reminded her. “Mr. Brisby will ensure they are well cared for until their new home is built.”
Jane bit her lip and said, “I am worried about the details. We spent significant money on other tenant houses earlier this year, not to mention the drainage on the southwestern field. Mr. Brisby will not have the funds easily in hand to rebuild, and many of the other tenant families are busy with their own fields. If you are not there to approve specific expenditures, I fear that the steward will not push forward on the rebuilding.”
Bingley peered at her for a moment and then said, “Do you wish to return to Netherfield, Jane?”
His wife compressed her lips and nodded.
“Yes, I would, but oh, Charles, if you wish to stay, I understand completely. I am sorry. I feel so peculiar, quite unlike myself, and Mr. and Miss Darcy have been so welcoming, but I just wish to be home at Netherfield. But I assure you that if that is inconvenient to you…”
“My dear, I understand completely,” he interrupted her, standing up and planting a loving kiss on her forehead. “Let me think and pray about it. Does that give you peace, my love?”
“It does,” Jane agreed, smiling mistily at him. “Thank you.”
/
“I think Fitzwilliam is in here,” Georgiana said to Elizabeth, knocking on the door of her brother’s study. She heard her brother’s familiar voice respond and opened the door. “Brother? May we talk to you for a moment?”
Darcy, who was staring uneasily at a letter in his hand, promptly shoved the offending missive into a drawer, stood up, bowed, and said, “Of course, Georgiana, Miss Bennet, good morning! I hope you are both well?”
“We are,” Elizabeth said, advancing into the room and pushing the door closed behind her with one foot. “I do apologize for interrupting you, sir, but I have a mission, and I will not be swayed from it.”
“A mission?” he asked in amused surprise. “What kind of mission?”
“A very important one, I am certain,” Elizabeth answered solemnly, reaching into a pocket and withdrawing a letter.
“This is for you, Mr. Darcy, from your cousin, Miss Anne de Bourgh. It was enclosed in a letter from Mrs. Charlotte Collins in Kent. Miss de Bourgh wished the letter to reach you without any possibility of interference and asked Charlotte to enclose her note in my friend’s letter to me.
Now I am handing it to you, and I have fulfilled my task. ”
Darcy was both perplexed and disturbed at the sight of the blue note, but he could only smile at Miss Bennet’s speech.
“Do you suppose something is wrong at Rosings? Perhaps my aunt or cousin is ill!” Georgiana said anxiously.
“Oh, surely Miss de Bourgh’s letter would have been sent by express if there were any urgent concerns,” Elizabeth said reassuringly. “Now, it appears to me that Mr. Darcy has paperwork to see to, and I believe Neptune and Rainbow are waiting for us.”
“They are!” Georgiana agreed. “Come along, Elizabeth.”
Darcy found his eyes fixed on Elizabeth’s slender form, clad in charming blue, as she departed the room with Georgiana at her heels. He blew out a breath, sat down, broke open the seal, and read Anne’s letter.
June 7th, 1812
Rosings
Darcy,
I hope this letter makes it to you safely, and I apologize for the roundabout method of getting it into your hands. Naturally I could not write you directly, given Lady Catherine’s insistence that we are destined to wed, and our butler makes a point of telling my mother about all my correspondence.
My mother informed me that she plans to write you and invite herself and me to Pemberley in July or August. I beg you to put her off in some way, Cousin.
My health is uncertain, and I know that a four day journey in a carriage along jolting roads in the very heat of summer would be an utter misery, regardless of how well sprung our coach is!
I would arrive only fit for bed, but Lady Catherine would not allow me to hide away when she has the opportunity to throw me at you.
Mother will not, of course, listen to me. I therefore implore you to fend her off somehow.
Sincerely,
Anne de Bourgh
Darcy felt a mixture of relief and dismay. On the one hand, he was glad that nothing dire had happened at Rosings. On the other, the thought of Lady Catherine descending upon Pemberley, with Anne in tow, was disconcerting.
He now opened up a drawer in his desk and pulled out the unopened letter from Lady Catherine that he had been considering only a few minutes ago.
June 7th, 1812
Darcy,
Anne and I will be journeying to Pemberley and will arrive on the twenty-ninth of July. It is quite tedious that we are required to travel so far, but given your refusal to visit Rosings, you have given me no choice in the matter.
Anne will soon be five and twenty, and it is time that you and she are wed.
You can purchase a common license and be married at the chapel in Pemberley.
If your mother were still alive, she would be most pleased to have the heir of Pemberley and the heiress of Rosings joined together in marriage on the grounds of the estate where she herself lived for many happy years.
Sincerely,
Lady Catherine de Bourgh
Darcy groaned softly just as there was another tap on the door. He called for his latest visitor to come in and shoved both letters into a drawer as Bingley, his face uncharacteristically grave, entered the study.
“Bingley,” he said, rising to his feet, “I hope your wife is well?”
“She is no worse, anyway,” Bingley said, wandering over to the window to look out toward the west, “but I fear she is feeling quite distraught today.”
“I am sorry.”
Bingley shrugged and turned toward his friend.
“It is not unusual for a woman in a delicate condition to feel poorly. However, Jane is worried about the Netherfield tenant family whose cottage burned down and expressed a longing to return soon to the estate. I spent the last hour seeking God’s wisdom, and I believe that it would be best for us to journey back to Hertfordshire in two days.
You have been a wonderful host, and I know we intended to stay longer at Pemberley, but it will be easier to oversee and expedite the rebuilding of the cottage from Netherfield.
I also think Jane would be more comfortable in her own home during this challenging time. ”
“Certainly,” Darcy responded, though he felt his heart sink at these words. “I understand completely, Bingley, and can only applaud you for your devotion to both your wife and your tenants.
“Perhaps you can visit us at Netherfield soon!” Bingley said eagerly. “We would gladly welcome you and Miss Darcy if you can tear yourself away from your duties here.”
Darcy glanced briefly at the drawer, which held the letters from his aunt and cousin, and he narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.
“I may well take you up on that offer, my friend; in the meantime, would you allow me to break the news to Georgiana before you tell the others? She will be most disappointed, as she has grown very fond of both your wife and Miss Bennet.”
“Of course,” Bingley promised and strode out of the study.
Darcy watched his friend leave before lowering himself into his chair again, his eyes fixed on an ormolu paperweight crafted in the shape of a rearing stallion.
It had been a gift from his father a decade ago, and he reached out to run his fingers over the smooth back and legs of the figure.
How was he going to tell Georgiana? She would be bitterly unhappy.
For that matter…
He leaned back and closed his eyes. He was fooling himself if he thought Georgiana was the only one affected by the Bingleys’ decision.
A good night’s sleep had not erased the confusion swirling in his mind.
He had come to realize that he was greatly drawn to Miss Bennet, but was that merely infatuation, or true passion?
He had looked forward to having her under his roof for at least another week and had, in fact, intended to urge Bingley’s party to stay longer.
He groaned and massaged his forehead before reaching for his cousin and aunt’s letters again. He must find a way to stave off Lady Catherine’s intended visit in a few short weeks, and he must find a way to keep Georgiana reasonably happy, and he must consult with Richard regarding Miss Bennet, and…
Five minutes later, he pulled out paper and pen and began writing. He had a plan.