Chapter 12 #2
She nodded to show her agreement, and then she asked—as she always did every fair day—if he cared to join her on a walk.
He did, of course, and Mary gladly went with them, and the couple managed to chat with Mary during half of the walk and then to have some private moments in the orchard to renew their commitment to one another.
On their way back into the house, Elizabeth took Fitzwilliam through the kitchens and introduced him to Mrs Nelson, also known as Cook.
The older woman was clearly delighted but nervous, and Elizabeth took her hand, squeezed it fondly, and said, “I know that you were watching out for me, and I wish to thank you.”
Cook turned to Fitzwilliam with astonishment. “Are you the one?” she asked with absolutely no clarity.
Fitzwilliam said, “Yes, the man you report to reports to me. I am most grateful for the information about Miss Elizabeth’s illness all those years ago. I was able to send a brilliant physician to consult about her care. Thank you.”
Cook had sagged with relief. “Oh, thank the Lord,” she said.
Elizabeth was puzzled until Cook turned to her and said, “I hope you know—I never—I did hear that you had a wealthy benefactor, but I never dreamt…and then I was supposed to say when you had a suitor, and I had my suspicions about…well, him, but I never said—it just did not seem right, after all—but then when you became engaged, I knew I properly ought to say, and so I did, but I did not wish to do anything to stand in the way between you and Mr Darcy, see? I was so upset—but it is all right, because he is the one!”
Elizabeth believed she now understood what was behind the motherly woman’s incoherence, and she gave Cook a hug and said, “He is the only one for me, I am convinced.”
Fitzwilliam said, “Mrs Nelson, I thank you again. I know it was a matter of some delicacy, and still, looking back at everything that was arranged and the results, it is not easy to be clear if my efforts were fully moral or quite selfish. However, since both Elizabeth and I are ecstatic with those results, and her family will be in a more comfortable position going forward, I do think that everyone would thank you rather than criticise you.”
Cook gave him a curtsey. “You are most welcome, sir,” she said, and she turned back to Elizabeth and said, “I so enjoyed getting to know you, Miss Elizabeth. You were worthy of Mr Darcy’s efforts when you were fifteen, and you are even more worthy now.”
“Well, I am certainly glad that you came to Longbourn, Mrs Nelson.”
The days slipped by with wedding preparations and visits.
Elizabeth had the occasional fitting for her wedding gown, a special night chemise and wrapper, and a new travel dress and cloak.
Her sisters and she polished all the silver and dusted every room, because their mother did not feel that the Hills and Sarah would perform quite up to the level of perfection she required.
Mr Hill was working with footmen from Netherfield to transport chairs to Longbourn, and Mrs Hill and Sarah helped with the food preparation.
Mr Bingley and Fitzwilliam continued to visit daily, and because two of those days were rainy, and they could not walk, they walked twice as long as usual when the third day proved dry.
On that long walk, Fitzwilliam had talked about his friends from Cambridge and the family members she would soon meet and those she would likely not meet for a long time.
In the last category, notably, was his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
She was so insistent that he was engaged to her daughter Anne—and that two great estates would thus be joined, establishing the family as even more wealthy and powerful than ever—that everyone in the family had given up repeating to her that he was not engaged to Anne, had never been and never would be.
The entire family, including Anne, advised Fitzwilliam to marry his own choice and then present Lady Catherine with the incontrovertible fact that her fondest hope would never occur.
“So you have a relation who will hate me before she even meets me.”
“I imagine that I do. My apologies.”
“Well, I should hope that you would apologise, Fitzwilliam! I certainly have no aunts who are insistent that I marry another, and I think very poorly of your decision to have such a relation!”
He could only wryly chuckle at her teasing scold.
In return, Elizabeth shared her deeper feelings about her parents, her siblings, and her aunt and uncle Philips.
“Also,” she said, “I have seen little of my friend Charlotte since you re-entered my life, but she had been a lifeline to me when my mother was being especially difficult or Lydia and Kitty had switched from teasing arguments to pulling-hair arguments. I have felt a bit angry at myself for neglecting her this past month, and I said so when she visited one morning, but she assured me that she understood.”
Fitzwilliam nodded and said, “I only know her from a very few conversations, including that one dance at the assembly, and from what others have said about her, but she strikes me as a very sensible person with quite a positive view of life.”
“But, Fitzwilliam, that is the thing: when she said that she understood, she had her calm smile, and her hands were folded so nicely on her lap—but her eyes showed such sadness.”
“I would have guessed that she is a lady rarely given to melancholy.”
“I have never seen her looking so down, before, but she is seven and twenty, and everyone expects her to be a spinster for life, and I am convinced that she, too, wishes for a home of her own and children and….”
“Love?” Fitzwilliam suggested.
“Of course. Who would not wish to love another and to be loved? But if she did not find that, I believe she would be content to have a decent husband and a simple home—a home and family of her own.”
He nodded, and he said, “I sympathise with her, but I also treasure your soft-heartedness to care so much for your friend. If it helps, we can invite her to Pemberley or Darcy House or both.”
“Thank you, Fitzwilliam. That might help. I shall tell her our intentions to do so the next time I see her.”
On the fourth day, the callers from Netherfield Park were accompanied by Georgiana and the Darcys’ cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Elizabeth knew from Georgiana’s letters that he was her co-guardian, with her brother.
Elizabeth gave Georgiana a warm hug, and the young lady literally jumped up and down in her excitement that Elizabeth would be her sister. This, despite the fact that fifteen-year-old ladies did not jump up and down, even when they were tremendously excited.
But Elizabeth was pleased to see that Fitzwilliam only smiled at his sister’s excitement.
She regretted that the Darcys’ cousin had the same surname as her intended’s given name, but she reflected that everyone referred to him as “the colonel” and addressed him as “Colonel,” except her Fitzwilliam and Georgiana, who both called him Richard.
Georgiana was still a bit shy, as she had been when they met five years ago.
Still, she seemed to feel brave at Elizabeth’s side and enjoyed getting to know the three youngest Bennets.
She especially gravitated to Kitty at first, but she soon began chattering away with Mary about music as well as with Kitty about everything else.
Lydia seemed extremely impressed with Georgiana, and she praised her gown as being the very latest style.
After half an hour, Lydia asked if Kitty and she could draw Georgiana and her gorgeous dress.
Since Mary and Elizabeth enjoyed drawing as well, the four Bennets began to draw her, and they all laughed together.
Georgiana had never acted silly those few hours when Jane and Elizabeth knew her as a child, but she obviously had the ability.
Georgiana would hold the pose she had been asked to take for a minute or so, and then wiggle her arms and stick out her tongue and make all manner of silly movements.
“It is important for me to relax,” she claimed.
After a short time, she would adopt the pose again, only to repeat the same cycle again a few minutes later.
At one point, Georgiana teased that she would be frozen like a marble statue if she stayed still even a moment longer, and all the girls laughed once again.
“I am so pleased that our sisters get along so well,” Elizabeth heard, and she realised that Fitzwilliam had approached her from behind to whisper in her ear. The colonel stood nearby, as well.
Elizabeth shivered at the sound of his beloved voice, but part of her response was a yearning that they were already wed, and that they could abandon all the people in the room and seek privacy in their own chambers.
“Ohh, I wish…” she whispered.
“The day after tomorrow,” he reminded her. “Not so very long. We can be patient, can we not?”
Elizabeth was certainly glad that she did not have to wait five years.
Except, she reminded herself, she had.
It was not really a wait, not on her part.
She had been certain she would never see Mr Darcy again.
She had merely thought about him during the day and dreamt of him at night.
She had not played a long, careful game, concocting a starting strategy and then seeing it through with patience and hope that the game would end in victory.
“I am finished!” Lydia declared. “And this means that all of you are, too. I demand an instant art show and competition, and we shall all vote for who drew Georgiana best.”
“You shall lose, Lydia,” Fitzwilliam said. “Elizabeth’s portrait shall win.”
Lydia shot him a light-hearted grimace, crinkling her nose as if his words emitted a stench. “Brother-to-be,” she said severely, “You cannot see my portrait. As a matter of fact, you can only see Lizzy’s. You cannot possibly know whose will win.”
“I can,” he assured her, “precisely because I can see Elizabeth’s.”