Chapter 19
Study
Darcy House
London
Morning
3rd December 1811
Fitzwilliam Darcy pulled his chair a little closer to the fire, sat down, and stretched out his feet toward the flames. It was a chilly day.
He lifted the letter in his hand and moved it so that the early morning sun lit up the page.
Cardiganshire
Wales
1st December 1811
Mr. Darcy,
I have made more progress in determining the value of the field which will belong to Mrs. Darcy on her next birthday.
As I said in my previous letter, the tract of land is a little more than 100 acres in size, so a reasonably substantial plot of land.
Of more importance, though, is its location.
It is situated quite near to the Llywernog Mines, where galena is mined.
Based on my discussions with some of the more knowledgeable locals, it is quite likely that the land has considerable silver and lead beneath the ground.
I was able to confirm Amos Stirling’s description of the situation; the land in question was owned by Lady Stromberg’s grandfather, but for reasons which are not entirely clear, it was not entailed as was the rest of the Stromberg estate.
The old lord was a fanatical gambler and lost the land in an exclusive gaming hell in London to a Mr. Rutherford, who left the land to his niece, who married a distant cousin of the Bennets, a Mr. Ainsley.
The Ainsleys hosted the elder two Bennet sisters for a month when they were ten and eleven, and Mrs. Darcy spent the last decade faithfully writing her relations until the deaths of the couple in a tragic carriage accident early this year.
The Ainsleys had no children and left the land to Mrs. Darcy in memory of her correspondence all these years.
As you pointed out in a recent letter, it seems odd that the Bennets themselves were not informed of the situation.
There is an Ainsley nephew, a ne'er-do-well, who may have done his best to suppress the truth.
If you like, I can continue to look into that, but it is not really necessary; legally, the land is being held for Mrs. Darcy, and she will inherit it in full when she reaches her majority.
Sincerely,
Stanley Emsworth
Darcy read it through, read it again, and then turned as the door swung open.
A moment later, he was on his feet, his mouth stretched into a delighted grin. He and Elizabeth had been married for a little more than three months now, and he loved her more than he had the day they wed.
“Elizabeth,” he said, stepping forward and taking her hands in his. “Good morning. I hope you are well?”
She smiled up at him. “Yes, I am very well. And you?”
“I am marvelous,” he replied sincerely, and then gestured to the chair he had just vacated. “Sit down, my love, and read the letter I just received from my agent looking into your inheritance in Wales.”
Elizabeth did so, read the letter with interest, and then lowered it, her expression solemn. “Oh, how sad about the Ainsleys.”
“You did not know that they had passed away, then?”
“I did not, but that is no great surprise. They were very distant cousins, and the only reason we spent two months with them was that my younger sisters came down with scarlet fever, my aunt Gardiner was confined with her first child, and my parents were eager to ship us off somewhere safe. The Ainsleys were a full generation older than my father and very kind to Jane and me. I am amazed that they left land to me, of all people, and even more surprised that it might have galena, which is…”
“A lead ore which often contains small quantities of silver,” Darcy said.
Elizabeth frowned. “Mining is a very dangerous business, I believe?”
“Very much so,” her husband agreed, “though it is also the life’s work of many a man who supports his family through his toil.”
Elizabeth glanced at the letter again and said, “Well, we can do nothing until I reach one and twenty, so I do not think we need make any decisions today. And I do have an entirely unrelated question for you.”
“Yes?”
“Which gown ought I to wear tonight, the green or the blue?”
Darcy blinked at her. “What?”
She quirked an eyebrow. “Tonight’s dinner is important, and I am determined to look as well as possible. Georgiana and I have narrowed down the options to emerald green or cerulean blue, and I wondered if you had a preference.”
He hesitated for a moment. The truth was that Elizabeth looked beautiful in everything.
“Perhaps the green?” he suggested hesitantly.
She smiled brilliantly. “I think so, too. That one is my favorite.”
“You will be magnificent,” he said and then frowned. “Moreover, if any of my relations harass you, I will intervene, I promise.”
She chuckled. “I am not concerned. I am aware that many of them are disappointed at our marriage, but our union has been such an extraordinary source of happiness that I have no intention of being cast down by the disapprobation of a few elderly relations. Now, do wipe that frown off of your forehead, my dear. All will be well.”
He allowed his countenance to relax, though inwardly he was still a trifle worried. Lady Catherine could be a termagant when she was upset, and based on the six letters which had winged from Rosings to Pemberley in the last three months, she was very upset.
On the other hand, his dear bride had launched herself against a well-built man to rescue Georgiana. Compared to that, Lady Catherine was nothing.
***
Drawing Room
Matlock House
Evening
Coal fires might not be as pleasantly scented as wood fires, but they produced a more consistent heat.
Richard stood before the fire now, watching the flames flicker and basking in the warmth thrown off by the fireplace.
He relished the luxury of standing here in his mother’s beautifully appointed drawing room.
Brighton, where he was currently stationed, was chilly in winter, with its eternal winds off the sea and the clinging damp from the same.
Even the thick wool coats of the military men were not always enough to ward off the effects of cold, resulting in numb fingers and toes and noses.
It was part of military discipline to be inured to discomfort, and Richard made no objection to the location where he had been assigned to train troops.
Nonetheless, he was grateful for his leave, even if it was for only a month.
He nourished not only the obligatory filial piety but cherished a genuine affection for his parents and his siblings.
Many of his compatriots in the army complained about their families, about the allowances their fathers gave them, about their mothers’ anxieties that they marry, the annoyances of their brothers and sisters.
The Fitzwilliams had no such friction. Like any family, they had their disagreements, but Richard got along amiably with his elder brother, doted on his younger sisters, adored his mother, and held his father in great esteem.
He was looking forward to spending a few weeks with them.
The food, too, would be far better than his accustomed military fare, as his mother’s French cooks took pride in producing tasty dishes that were guaranteed to please the most discerning of palates.
While the food tonight would be excellent, there would likely be friction among the guests.
His cousin Darcy was quiet but intelligent, and always good for an interesting conversation.
Mrs. Darcy, he knew, would be charming. He had spent a fortnight at Pemberley after the wedding and had quickly fallen under her spell.
She was, as Georgiana had predicted, a wonderful wife to Darcy and mistress of the estate.
She was also, of course, brave and courageous and feisty.
She had attacked George Wickham when he tried to snatch Georgiana off the street in Lambton, and Richard felt undying gratitude for her actions.
Naturally, the rest of the family did not know of Georgiana’s traumatic experience.
It would do no good for the story to be spread throughout the haut ton, and while Richard’s parents could be trusted to hold their tongues, Lady Catherine could not and was in the habit of reminding those around her of this fact.
In a way, it was surprising that news of the court case had not spread from Derby to London, but by the grace of God, it had not.
It had not been Georgiana’s fault, certainly, that rogues had targeted her, but it would have done her reputation no good.
He was grateful that the old judge presiding over the trial had worked with Darcy to keep the names of the young ladies out of any press reports.
“And as expected, they are late,” Lady Catherine suddenly snapped, turning an irritated face at the clock ticking peacefully on the mantel. “It must be due to that upstart girl! Darcy is always on time!”
Richard aimed an annoyed look at his aunt.
Lady Catherine de Bourgh, despite being well-born and well-bred, was almost certain to make herself very unpleasant tonight.
He watched his aunt as she paced up and down on Lady Matlock’s lovely oriental carpet, patterns of red and blue crushed beneath Lady Catherine’s expensive heels.
Her face was flushed with outrage, her eyes were narrowed like a cat’s, and had she possessed a tail, Richard was confident that the tip would have been flicking back and forth in agitation.
“Catherine,” Lord Matlock said wearily, “it is but ten minutes until the hour, and we will not eat until half past. I do urge you to calm yourself.”
“Calm myself?” Lady Catherine demanded, her flashing eyes focused on her brother. “How can I be calm when my own nephew betrayed me, and betrayed Anne, in such a way? From their infancy, they were meant for one another…”
Richard, who had heard this diatribe more than once, turned thoughtful eyes on his cousin, Anne de Bourgh, only child of the deceased Lewis de Bourgh, and heiress of the vast estate of Rosings in Kent.