17
The following morning found Elizabeth Darcy at her desk in the drawing room, continuing a letter she was writing to her sister, Jane Bingley, who was living the quiet life of an invalid with her family up in Derbyshire.
Jane had never fully recovered from the birth of her daughter Alethea who had arrived many years after her brother and sisters and Elizabeth worried about her constantly.
… so my dearest, as you can imagine, the repercussions of the truth about Celeste are still ringing around my ears. Fitzwilliam is in a quiet fury that is aimed more at the Italian authorities than at the girl herself who swiftly packed and left Matlock House last night to stay with Lady Goddard.
Celeste is a calculating little minx in my opinion, although like all men, Fitzwilliam just feels sorry for her!
Poor Dr Moore—he is so in love with the wretched girl.
But maybe she does care for him enough for the marriage to be a success and the formidable Lady Goddard will probably help them out if Celeste spends all of her husband’s money.
She is very fond of Andrew—far more, I fear, than her own grandson. Families are very odd.
Speaking of families, mine will soon be altogether under one roof. Fitz and Henry will both be home for Christmas, which fills my heart with joy. It will be a happy relief to talk to two of my children and not have to deal with secrets and heartache.
She glanced across the room to where her sister’s namesake was curled up on the window seat, a book in her lap. To Elizabeth’s certain knowledge, Jane had not turned a page in the past fifteen minutes.
I thought Jane had improved since her time in Dorset, but today she seems plunged back into gloom.
She is pale and looks as if she did not sleep last night.
I do hope all that nonsense regarding Digby Frobisher has not been awakened.
I noticed that his name is on the list of invitations to the ball on Saturday.
I am very annoyed as Fitzwilliam and I have made our displeasure at his actions very clear and I have no idea why he was included. I am sure he was not on the list I approved and rather suspect Bennetta’s fine hand in the matter. That child is a menace.
Anne, on the other hand, is bursting with suppressed emotion, awaiting—as we all are—for Archer Maitland to make a formal proposal. Bennetta teases her unmercifully and I spend my time keeping the peace between them.
I have no idea why the gentleman in question has not yet spoken—all I can imagine is that he is waiting for the ball.
This is what Anne believes and I shall be so relieved when it is all out in the open.
It will be fun to arrange their wedding.
As you know, I enjoyed Cassandra and Catherine’s but my own daughter’s will be very special.
I am sure you feel the same way about your dear Beth. It is so hard to believe that the twins will be twenty at Christmas and Beth the same age a few days later! Where have the years gone?
We are also awaiting the arrival today of Colonel Fitzwilliam and dear Susannah. It will be so good to see them both again. Poor Susannah has been away from home for far longer than she would have wished. Hopefully she will stay for the ball and then travel north.
You will no doubt see her yourself and get all the latest news first hand …
She paused and sat thinking. Would it be fun to arrange Anne’s wedding?
She had the uncomfortable feeling that she would not be allowed much involvement.
Her eldest daughter was sure to have every detail already planned.
Elizabeth sighed. That was the problem with Anne: she was an organiser with nothing in her life to organise.
Marrying Archer would give that side of her nature full rein which could only be a good thing.
“Mama! Mama! Come quickly, they have delivered the most dreadful flowers for the ballroom.” Bennetta ran into the room, her face a picture of despair. “They are all orange and brown, Mama! Orange and brown and I asked for white and yellow!”
With the sigh Elizabeth got up and accompanied the frantic girl out to the hallway to deal with the crisis. At Pemberley they had the redoubtable Miss Reynolds who would cope with all these problems, but the London housekeeper was very elderly and no doubt in as much of a frenzy as Bennetta!
Jane did not look up from her book—the book she was not reading. The words danced in front of her eyes and made no sense. All she could see and hear were Archer’s harsh words as he left her yesterday.
“Oh this is where you are hiding!” Anne sailed into the room. “I wanted to know what you are wearing for the ball. It is so tedious when we are in the same colour, and people make all those stupid remarks about how alike we are.”
Jane closed her book and gazed at her twin. With her brilliant golden hair, high colour and determined manner, she didn’t think anyone would mistake them for each other anymore.
“I don’t mind which dress I wear. But you have a new one, I believe.”
Anne crossed to a mirror and inspected her reflection, delighted with what she saw. “I do indeed. It is gold with a fine silver embroidered overlay, cut in the very latest fashion. I need at least five petticoats under the skirt!”
Jane couldn’t help smiling. “Well, sister, I don’t think you need worry. I have nothing as wonderful as that. I think my cream silk or even the pink will be quite adequate. It is your night, after all.”
“Well, I certainly hope so! I have been waiting long enough. His silence on the subject is very annoying. Everyone knows what must happen. I really think that if Archer does not advance our relationship tomorrow, then I will feel free to consider the approaches of other gentlemen.”
“But how could you possibly do so if you love Archer?”
Anne laughed: sometimes her sister amused her greatly. “Love? I don’t love Archer, you silly. It is a marriage that suits both of us. Lady Goddard’s money is guaranteed for his career and I get a handsome, ambitious husband and a chance to get away from Pemberley and make a life for myself.”
“But you love Pemberley!”
Anne’s face hardened. “Of course I love it, but it will never be mine, will it? Or yours, or even if some disaster befell us both, Bennetta’s. No, it will go to Fitz, and if he has no children, then to Henry. I love it more than any of you but if I can’t have it, then I don’t want to stay there.”
Jane felt a wave of anguish, worry and pity sweep over her. It was bad enough losing Archer, but to a loveless marriage, to a girl who only saw him as a way of escaping from a life that didn’t suit her—that was hard indeed.
“But what if you marry Archer and then fall in love with someone else? What if …”
she hesitated, then went on … “what if he finds someone he truly loves?”
“Oh Archer is far too honourable to cause me any embarrassment. I think he would just suffer in silence. But enough of me.
Tell me, what is happening between you and the handsome Mr Frobisher? Have you made up your silly argument yet?”
“Digby? He means nothing to me. You encouraged him, to show me exactly what type of man he is. Well, you certainly succeeded.”
“Oh Jane. I will say sorry if it makes you feel better. Perhaps I was wrong to act as I did. By pretending to like him, I pushed him into proposing to me, when I am sure he preferred you. But you gave him no sign of your feelings! The poor fellow had no idea you cared for him. Why don’t you give him another chance?
He is coming to the ball—although I have no idea how his name was added to the guest list—so you will have an opportunity to make everything pleasant once more.
Now I must go and see what Bennetta and Mama are doing with the flowers.
I’ve already planned out the decorations, but Benny will not listen! ”
Jane wished with all her heart that she was back at Pemberley. Making an appearance at the ball had been hard enough to countenance; the thought that she would have to fend off Digby’s insincere attentions gave her great cause for concern.
She crossed to the chess table. One of the servants had picked up all the pieces from where Archer had discarded them and placed them at random on the board.
She reached out to pick up one of the little white pawns.
So small and inoffensive, but if played correctly, it could make a huge difference to the game.
Was that what Archer had meant when he said that a pawn could capture a king?
Her fingers tightened round the little marble figure, feeling the intricate carving digging into the palm of her hand.
How could she possibly save him? And from what?
Ahead of him lay a sparkling career and a position of great power which gave him the influence to do good in the world—all in return for a marriage that might be loveless but would be held together by mutual liking and ambition.
He seemed to be saying that it was within her power to change all that, but what woman who truly loved would destroy the recipient of her affections knowing it would ruin him?
The rest of the day dragged past. Jane hid herself in her room after lunch, tired of listening to Anne and Bennetta bickering about arrangements for flowers, food, champagne, musicians and who should open the dancing and with whom.
She knew she was being dull and annoying her sisters by her lack of interest and was determined to make more of an effort at dinner.
It seemed strange not to see Celeste sitting at the table.
Anne had shown only the slightest interest in the Italian girl’s story, only wanting reassurance that she and Andrew would be attending on the following night.
“Oh they are sure to come,” Bennetta said airily. “Lady Goddard will because she wants to be here when Archer proposes and in her eyes Andrew can do no wrong, so I am certain they will accompany her.”
Anne looked content and Jane tried to stop herself from digging holes in the tablecloth with the prongs of her fork.