Chapter 2
Green Havens
Pemberley
“Jane, my dear?”
Jane Bingley, who was studying the accounts for the household, looked up fondly at her husband. Charles had grown a trifle stouter in the decade since their marriage, but he remained the handsome, kind, generous gentleman who had won her heart.
“Yes?” she asked.
“Hurst and I are taking Hubert and Samuel out so they can practice riding a pony, and Adam and John are coming with me. We will be back by dinner time.”
“Have a wonderful time,” Jane said with a wave of one slender hand. He grinned at her and strode off, and she began doing sums again.
Five minutes later, she heard familiar feminine voices, and she found a bookmark, marked the spot in the ledger, and closed it just as Mrs. Bennet, Mrs. Hurst, and Lady Hayward entered the room.
“Mother, sisters!” Jane said, reaching over to ring the bell for a maid. “Would you care for some tea?”
“Oh yes, that would be quite pleasant, my dear,” Mrs. Bennet said. “It is a little chilly today, though I am certain it will warm up soon.”
“I am certain it will. Shall we all sit down?” Jane suggested. A maid appeared, and she gave the necessary orders for refreshments.
“I understand that the boys are going riding this morning,” she remarked, turning to look out across the west lawn which led to the stables.
“Yes,” Louisa agreed. “Emma was quite indignant that she was not invited, but I explained that she would be quite bored, as the young ones are learning to ride small, gentle creatures.”
“Your Emma is as vigorous a horsewoman as Jane was,” Mrs. Bennet commented. “Jane was riding horses by the age of nine, which I confess terrified me at times.”
“Yes, Emma is a marvelous rider,” Louisa said, “though I would say in many ways she is more like Elizabeth than Jane. She loves to climb trees and jump in mud puddles.”
“Oh yes, my Lizzy was always coming home at that age with her petticoats dirty and her stockings torn,” Mrs. Bennet said, shaking her head. “I quite despaired of her, only to have her successfully capture Mr. Darcy, with all his wealth!”
“Elizabeth is perfect for Mr. Darcy,” Louisa said comfortably. “Am I correct that you are going to Pemberley tomorrow, Mrs. Bennet?”
“Yes, and Jane and her children are coming with me. In truth, I was not pleased when Mr. Bingley gave up Netherfield in favor of Green Havens, but now that Mr. Bennet is gone and the Collinses have stolen Longbourn, I find it most convenient to have three of my daughters living within twenty miles of one another in Derbyshire. I do not enjoy traveling as much as I used to. It was very kind of Mr. Darcy to give Kitty’s husband the Kympton living.
The parsonage is lovely, and Kitty has done wonders gardening the glebe!
It is a charming place to raise her children, and so near to Pemberley. ”
“I do not enjoy traveling as much I used to either,” Louisa commented, “though we do intend to travel to London in a month for part of the Season. Mr. Hurst’s youngest aunt, who just returned from many years on the Continent, wishes to meet our children for the first time.”
“Are you also going to London, Lady Hayward?” Mrs. Bennet asked politely.
Caroline managed a slight smile and said, “No, Charles and Jane have offered to host my son and me for the near future, which is very kind of them. I would not be able to enjoy myself anyway given that I am still in half mourning.”
Mrs. Bennet sighed deeply. “I quite understand, Lady Hayward. It is a terrible thing to lose a husband, especially when your son is still young. I hope you have a good steward for your boy’s estate.”
Caroline swallowed hard and turned a beseeching look on her sister-in-law.
Her husband, Lord Hayward, had died of an apoplexy only seven months previously, leaving her a widow with a seven year old son, Samuel, who was, of course, the new Baron.
Unfortunately, her husband had also mortgaged all of his property to fuel his dissolute lifestyle, leaving Caroline and her son with only three hundred pounds a year in income from her jointure, thus forcing her to live off the generosity of her brother and his wife.
She had been so proud of herself when she had captured a member of the nobility a decade previously; now, she knew titles were nothing compared to kindness, stability, and respect in a marriage.
To her grateful relief, Jane turned the subject by saying, “That reminds me, Mother, I received a letter from Mary only this morning. She says that she visited Charlotte Collins a week ago, and that Charlotte has hired Mr. Wesley to be steward of Longbourn. I am certain he will do an excellent job!”
“Oh I daresay he will, though your father never found it necessary to have a steward!”
“No, but Charlotte is now a widow, and it would be too much for her to oversee the mansion itself, look after her three sons, and care properly for the tenants.”
Mrs. Bennet grimaced. “Yes, I suppose that is true. I still think it ridiculous that Mr. Collins inherited the estate instead of Jane, but I am most thankful that all my daughters have made good marriages!”
“Have you heard from Mrs. Vincent recently?” Louisa asked with interest.
“Not in more than a month,” the older lady said, “but then my Lydia was never a great writer. She is doing very well; her husband was promoted to general last year, you know, and Lydia is proving a most gifted hostess to the British diplomatic families in Paris. She has not yet conceived a child, and I do worry about that, but she has only been married for three years, and for part of that time, her husband was stationed elsewhere.”
“It sounds like she is happy,” Caroline said, finding it hard to keep the bitterness out of her tone. To think that she, with her excellent education and large dowry, had made a far poorer match than all the Bennet daughters, including the boisterous Lydia!
“She is very happy,” Mrs. Bennet said cheerily.
/
Rosings
“Anne!” Richard Fitzwilliam cried out, surging into the nursery where his wife was nursing their youngest child and only daughter.
“Yes?” Anne asked, eyeing the letter her husband was waving around eagerly. “What has happened? Is something wrong?”
“No, everything is right! This is a letter from my mother, and she tells me that Tony’s wife gave birth to a healthy son two days ago!”
“Oh, Richard!” Anne exclaimed, “that is absolutely wonderful!”
“It is,” Richard responded, dropping into the chair adjacent to his wife. He reached over and stroked baby Esther’s fluffy head and said, “I truly thought I was going to be stuck with the earldom given that Anthony sired five daughters before this little one.”
Anne chuckled and caressed her husband’s lean cheek with an affectionate hand. “Most men would be pleased to be heir to an earldom, darling.”
“Well, I am not most men,” Richard said decidedly. “Rosings is quite enough for any man to oversee, and I would despise having to care for the Matlock estates in Lincolnshire, especially since Tony is not as gifted an administrator as my father was, God rest his soul.”
“I would loathe it too,” Anne agreed fervently. “I feel much better now that I visit Ramsgate for many weeks every summer, and my mother is not permitted to cross the threshold of Rosings, but I still hate to travel long distances.”
“I know you do,” Richard agreed, kissing his wife on the cheek and then jumping to his feet. “I need to send a congratulatory letter to Anthony and his wife. I will include your good felicitations, if I may.”
“I am indeed overjoyed for them and relieved on my own account, though you will not write about the latter, of course,” Anne said with all sincerity.
Her marriage of convenience to Richard had transformed into a union of genuine respect and camaraderie, and she had worried that when her brother-in-law, the current Earl of Matlock, passed on, Richard would be forced to spend substantial time away from her.
Certainly there was no absolute guarantee that Richard would outlive his brother, but it seemed likely.
Her Fitzwilliam was a hearty and energetic man, and the current Earl of Matlock was consistently delicate, but now the earldom would go to Anthony’s son.
Yes, she was very relieved at this news.
/
Sydney, Australia
“Henrietta, here is the flour you need.”
Mrs. Henrietta Brown, formerly Mrs. Henrietta Younge, looked up from kneading a lump of dough and said, “Thank you, Wilbur. I had just run out.”
“Shall I send Alice to assist you with the bread?” her husband inquired.
Henrietta carefully dabbed her nose with the back of her mostly clean hand and said, “No, I think I am well enough for now. Thank you.”
“You are welcome,” her husband said courteously and scurried away, leaving Henrietta in charge of her kitchen.
Henrietta’s sentence of seven years of labor had ended some two years previously, whereupon she could have returned to England.
She had decided not to do so. There was nothing left for her in her land of birth, and here in Australia, she was a valuable commodity as there were far more men than women.
She had chosen to marry Mr. Brown, who had left England some years ago with his family in order to make a living here in Sydney as a baker.
The first Mrs. Brown had died five years previously, leaving two daughters, and Henrietta now found herself stepmother to Alice and Barbara.
Her hair was now white, her face was wrinkled, and her clothing was practical instead of elegant. However, after seven years working as a washerwoman as a convict, she was pleased to have her own home, her own family, and to contribute to her husband’s business.
Wickham was dead these ten years now, and Henrietta, while she deeply regretted her idiocy in taking part in his schemes, could only be thankful for what she now had.
/
Pemberley
Fitzwilliam Darcy swung off of his golden mare, handed the reins to a servant, and asked, “Is Mrs. Darcy still here?”