10 #2
Another thought brought more irritation—Jane! She would be coming to London with Celeste. There would be more tears, long silences and an air of suffering, just because her silly sister could not see that Digby was a young man who didn’t care whom he married as long as they had money.
Anne had been told by her mother that she had handled the whole affair badly, but she did not have any doubts in her mind.
In her own way she was fond of Jane and had just wanted to show her twin that Digby was a man lacking character.
But Jane obviously had no difficulty in overlooking that.
She grieved for her lost relationship and Anne had to admit that she did feel a few faint pangs of regret about that.
Patting a loose strand of hair into place, she continued down the stairway.
Her mama wanted her to write to Jane, to say she was sorry to have encouraged Digby, but she could see no reason why she should apologise.
Her twin would have spent several pleasant days being spoilt and pampered by Colonel Fitzwilliam, who never paid Anne anything more than the merest of compliments.
She would no doubt have received all his sympathy and be far happier than before.
Her foot on the stair faltered. Goodness, from the tone of her thoughts it was almost as if she was jealous of Jane!
How ridiculous was that? Jane could not look forward to a marriage to a handsome lawyer with an exciting career in politics ahead of him.
Admittedly Anne would be marrying for convenience, not love, but what was wrong in that.
You would be a very lucky young woman to marry for love, even in these modern days of 1834.
She sighed: she wanted Jane to be happy. Well, perhaps Digby could be invited to call on them in London. Surely Jane would accept him if he proposed again and then that would be to everyone’s advantage.
***
A few days later, Jane sat in the Deerwood drawing room in front of a blazing fire.
The weather was chilly and wet, the garden paths too muddy to tempt her out, the leaves torn from the branches in the woods, whirling in great swoops to batter against the mullioned windows.
It was raining hard again this afternoon and she was glad to be indoors.
She had said nothing to Susannah or her godfather about the events at the Green Man.
Several of the servants had been incapable of looking her straight in the eye the following morning, but seeing she was ignoring the situation, they had grown more cheerful, only working more assiduously to be of service to her.
Jane herself had found it difficult to keep a straight face when dealing with Dixon, the pompous valet, because she could still picture him covered in green paint with fake horns stuck to his forehead!
Tabitha had told her, almost casually, that the housekeeper had forbidden her to leave Deerwood on that evening. No reason had been given and the girl hadn’t been too bothered because there had been a sing-song in the kitchen with tea and cake.
Jane had found it difficult to come to terms with her own behaviour.
A few weeks ago she would not have dreamt of putting herself into danger: she would have alerted one of the senior servants and ordered them to fetch Tabitha back from the village.
But she was no longer so timid; it was as if her whole life had been spent under a smothering blanket of care and concern.
Now she had torn the coverings apart a little and ventured outside of the warm cocoon into the chillier but bracing world outside.
Her next decision would be whether to retreat once more and allow her friends and family to protect her, or fight for the right to follow her own path.
She would be twenty years old just before Christmas.
A grown woman. And making amends with her sister was one of the things she must do.
Regardless of Anne’s intentions, the outcome had been to show her just how wrong and shallow her feelings had been for Digby.
Why, it was even difficult now to remember exactly what he looked like!
The rain continued to batter against the windows and hiss down the chimney onto the flickering flames. The Colonel had retired to his study after breakfast as he did every morning—he was still suffering from the wound in his leg and the damp weather did nothing to improve his plight.
Celeste had drifted around the house in an irritable mood until Andrew Moore had arrived to leave his card and she had begged him to accompany her into Dorchester, to which request he had gladly agreed.
Jane was glad they had taken the carriage; anyone out on horseback at the moment would be drenched in minutes.
The post had just been delivered and Jane was anxious to discover all the news from Pemberley.
A plate of buttered muffins and a pot of hot chocolate lay on the table between her and Susannah who was bent over a small garment she was embroidering for her little niece.
A fit of coughing struck her and Jane looked up in concern until it subsided.
“We have not had the pleasure of Mr Maitland’s company these past days,” Susannah said, putting away her handkerchief and bending her head once more to the delicate stitch work. “Although Dr Moore manages to visit us regularly.”
Jane looked up from the letters that were strewn across her lap. “Mr Maitland is obviously far too busy to bother,” she said tartly. “Dear Dr Moore comes to speak to the Colonel about the ancient silver and other little pieces of Roman pottery in which they both have an interest.”
Susannah nodded and fought to stop another bout of coughing. “Yes, I quite understand that, but it is surprising how today that talk took about ten minutes and then he found it necessary to accompany Celeste into Dorchester in the carriage.”
“Poor Celeste is not finding our autumn weather to her liking. And she does so love shopping.” Jane bent her head to the packet of letters and murmured absentmindedly, “It is good of Dr Moore to take the time out of his day to amuse her, especially as the poor Colonel is still in pain. Her maid accompanies them so all is good and proper.”
“Yes, but Jane dear—”
“Oh my goodness, Susannah—” the younger girl interrupted in consternation as she read one of her letters. “We are to leave Deerwood immediately and go to London! And we are to take Celeste with us.”
She read her mama’s words over again to make sure she had not misunderstood them…
Your papa and I were astonished to learn of Celeste Fiorette.
Apparently it was not known to the family that Rose Fitzwilliam, who was very much younger than her sisters—your papa’s mother and Lady Catherine—had a child in Italy after she ran away from home.
The old Earl would not have her name mentioned.
It was as if she ceased to exist. So my dear, you have presented us with a pretty problem because wills and inheritances are involved and your papa is busy corresponding with lawyers out in Italy.
Thankfully, he speaks and writes the language extremely well.
Now, you may say I am mistaken, but I got the strong sense from your letter that there is some understanding between Celeste and the Colonel.
There is a very big difference in their ages, but I suppose it would be a great advantage to both of them if they were to marry even though they are cousins; he would no longer be alone and she would have protection in a foreign land.
Forgive and ignore my remarks if you did not mean to give that impression.
But if it is indeed true, it would be quite inappropriate for her to stay at Deerwood unchaperoned.
I have today written to both of them—I have invited her to join us in London as soon as you can all travel.
We have decided to spend some weeks at Matlock House.
Mr Darcy has a great deal of business in town and Bennetta is determined to have a winter ball.
She declares that she will never meet any suitable young men up here in Derbyshire.
It is my opinion that your young sister will never find a man she thinks suitable!
Susannah will obviously wish to continue home after a short stop in London.
Indeed she may well care to travel on up to Northumberland as we have had the exciting news that dear Catherine is hoping to provide Sir Robert with an heir in a few months’ time!
Mr Darcy has asked me to say that he will happily provide a carriage for her journey north if that is her wish.
And you yourself, my darling girl, are you fully recovered in spirits?
Your letter sounded cheerful. Obviously meeting up with new people in different surroundings has helped you forget all the travails of this past summer.
Your papa knows the name of Dr Moore—he is distinguished in archaeological circles.
Anne says she is acquainted with Mr Maitland —in fact from the way she blushed when I spoke to her, I believe she has more than a passing liking for the gentleman.
Has he given you any indication of his feelings for her?
Your papa says he is well known as an up and coming man and destined for politics.
I’m sure such a life would suit Anne very well.
So, can you please me, dear Jane, by writing to your sister and making amends in that direction? You know Anne; I am sure she wishes only the best for you but you will wait for ever for her to make the first move at reconciliation.
We are all well. Letters have been received from Fitz and Henry, who boasts he has never even been sea-sick! Our only dark cloud is your dear Aunt Jane’s health which still continues to cause me concern. But she is in good spirits and looks forward to hearing all your news from Deerwood.