Chapter Text
London
January, 1815
Mr. Hennings’ offices were strewn with papers and books on nearly every surface. The man himself was well-dressed, though hardly a slave to tidiness. Based on the ink on his cheek, Elizabeth credited his wife to getting him out the door and hoping for the best. His clerk had ushered Elizabeth and Uncle Edward into his inner chambers, where they sat to tea and discussed fonts for the book as well as the initial print run. They had also decided to keep her name anonymous, simply using “By a Lady” as the credit. As they sat and finalized details, a great feeling of comfort stole over Elizabeth. She was thinking of her Papa’s book room, and how cluttered and cozy it always was, and thought he would be delighted by this turn of events.
“You are set, then, Miss Bennet, on publishing on commission?” Mr. Henning said. They were reviewing the sums that Elizabeth would need to put up in order to publish the run of 500 copies. It was a risk – it would cost her and Uncle Edward nearly £130 to print such a large run.
“Yes, Sir. Kind as you strike me, I cannot give away The Misses Bell to you, any more than I could give you my child,” Elizabeth smiled at him and he laughed.
“In your shoes, Miss Bennet, I dare say I would not, either. Nay, we are delighted to have you as a part of Diana Press, and I am certain you will be a great success. Your uncle tells me you have another novel in progress?”
“I do, Sir. This one is about a naval family, set mainly in Portsmouth,” she answered.
“Well, then I hope you will remember your friends at Diana when it is time to put it out into the world,” he said, smiling.
“Of course I will, Sir,” she said, and they stood to take their leave. As they were about to walk through to the antechamber, Elizabeth turned and asked, “Is not Diana the Roman version of the Greek goddess of intellect, Phoebe?”
“Yes, we owe that to my wife. She is a great reader of all mythologies, but does prefer the Romans to the Greeks,” he answered.
“I have a Phoebe who is very dear to me. I shall take it as a good sign,” Elizabeth answered. They said their goodbyes, and she and Uncle Edward made their way back to Gracechurch street, where a great sense of rightness continued to envelop her.
Derbyshire
February, 1815
A knock came at Darcy’s study door. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was about time for his daily visit with Phoebe. “Enter,” he bid, and the new governess Miss Owen escorted the child in.
“Good day, Papa,” Phoebe curtsied, and Darcy stood and bowed to the ladies. Miss Owen nodded her head and turned to leave. Darcy would deliver his daughter back to her lessons in two hours, after they had a bit of luncheon together and a talk or adventure.
Miss Owen was not as fond of the outdoors as Miss Bennet was, but she had an open mind when it came to educating his child. She believed many of the same principles that Miss Bennet practiced with Phoebe, and it made sense, as she was also an alumna of Miss Wellington’s school. Darcy thought her to be perhaps in her mid-thirties, and well suited to Phoebe. Perhaps less playful than Miss Bennet, perhaps less indulgent of a child’s imagination, but by no means a bad choice. He had made certain.
“Shall we continue our chess game after we dine?” Darcy asked.
“Oh, yes – I am certain I shall beat you!” Phoebe answered.
“We shall see, little Titaness,” Darcy answered, smiling. They sat down to play, and indeed, the child had progressed well. In order to encourage her, Darcy made a poor move that allowed him to win the game in 7 moves rather than the 4 it would have truly taken.
He reached over and shook her hand after check mate, and complimented her on her skill. “Perhaps in a few more weeks, you shall have me soundly beat,” he said.
“Perhaps I shall. Will we go see Aunt Georgie today?”
“No, my dear, she is gone with Mrs. Annesley to Bakewell for the last of her gowns to be fit,” he answered.
“And then she will leave us?” Phoebe asked, her mouth turned down in a rather glum little pout.
“Yes, she will marry from Lambton, and then be on her way down to Devonshire,” Darcy answered. His heart twinged a bit at the thought of Georgiana finally grown and gone, off to become Mrs. Ambrose Wright. He knew his feelings would be tenfold worse had he and Phoebe not begun to know each other better.
“Will we see her again?” Phoebe asked tremulously.
“Of course we will. She will always be your aunt, will she not?” Darcy asked, attempting to sound more jolly than he felt.
“Yes, I suppose. I do not like it when people leave Pemberley,” she answered, and began resetting the pieces on the board with tidy precision.
“Nor do I, my dear. But we always remember them, do we not?” He asked.
“Yes, that is so,” she said, beginning to chew her lower lip. Still looking down at the board, she asked “And you will not leave me, Papa?”
“No, I will not,” he said firmly.
“That is well,” Phoebe said. “Perhaps another game?”
“With pleasure,” he said, and gestured to the board, a tolerable, powerful feeling of peace in his breast.
London
March 1815
Lydia was indefatigable when it came to discussing fashion. She adored sewing and embroidery, and had a remarkable talent for making over bonnets and gowns. She had learned most of her craft with Miss Partridge at Miss Wellington’s school, and the lady had shown Lydia many of her particular tricks.
Elizabeth was bound for Meryton once more, after several weeks of time well spent in town. She had loaded herself down with goods for Longbourn, everything from the best tea and coffee to toys and books for the children. Lydia had been insistent that an entirely new wardrobe was necessary, and in truth, she was correct as both mourning for Mr. Collins and her time in service were now complete. Therefore, they had spent the past three months purchasing fabric at Lydia’s favorite warehouses, reviewing the fashion plates and patterns Lydia delighted in saving, and finding the perfect ribbons and embroidery thread colors to match what they had commissioned from the modiste.
How odd it was to be out in society again purely as a gentlewoman! Elizabeth began wearing her new gowns, whatever was most recently completed, and was sure among the Gardiners’ social circle she was earning herself a reputation as a spendthrift. Elizabeth had reentered civilian life as one coming back from a long sojourn, but the sojourn had been like a shadow alongside a life she might have otherwise lived. Had her parents never died, would Elizabeth even now be married to a gentleman or well-to-do merchant, and the mother of a little child or two? It was impossible to say. Still, she often pondered it as young men attempted to flirt with her at the Gardiners’ dinners, or when she called on acquaintances with Lydia and Aunt Maggie. She could not repine, for nothing equaled the feeling of complete control over her own destiny, limited as her options were.
Lydia was helping Elizabeth pack her trunks. “Now, see, Lizzy, this Saxon Blue gown should never be paired with any spencer but the Russian Flame, but I daresay it would be all the crack should you pair it with the ponceau ribbons.”
“Yes, of course, Lyddie, I thank you. I have noted it in my diary,” Elizabeth said wryly.
“Well you need not be in a snit about it! I am only concerned that we show you to best advantage,” Lydia said, leaning over and giving Elizabeth a light pinch on the arm.
“Ow! Little fiend. Nay, I am thankful, Lydia. I tease because of course I shall remember your brilliant recommendations. You have numbered them to me so often I begin to think they are my own idea, which may have been your purpose,” Elizabeth said as she folded another pair of stockings.
Lydia was quiet for a moment as she began carefully coiling ribbons up for travel. “Are you sure you will not stay in town?”
“I believe I am needed at Longbourn. Planting season is coming soon, and whatever Mr. Collins was or was not, this is Jane’s first planting season without a master at Longbourn. At least I can help with Jamie and Rosie while she manages,” Elizabeth answered.
“I wish you would stay. It has been so long since we have been able to be together like this. Even at Miss Wellington’s, you were often tired from teaching in the evenings,” Lydia said.
Elizabeth’s heart gave a little squeeze and she put down the things she had been folding and walked around the bed to Lydia, drawing her into an embrace.
“Oh, Lizzy, come now, my hair!” Lydia laughed, feigning to push her big sister away, but Elizabeth squeezed her even tighter.
She finally relented and loosened her hug, leaning back to look at Lydia. “These have been some of the most delightful weeks of my life, Lyddie. How I have loved getting to know you again, and seeing what a talent you have for color and fashion. And being the beneficiary of that knowledge!”
Lydia sniffed playfully. “Well, it was not hard to improve upon your wardrobe, Lizzy. It was quite dreadful!”
“Yes, yes, so you have said. Rather frequently. Well, we certainly cannot say that now. I appreciate you allowing me to still choose some practical colors,” she said, turning back to her packing.
“You saw that Mr. Carver could not take his eyes off you at dinner the other night,” Lydia offered, returning to the ribbons.
“He is a pleasant acquaintance, but no more,” Elizabeth said.
“Really, you still will not marry?” Lydia said.
“If I would not marry before, I would think it very odd to capitulate now,” Elizabeth said in rejoinder.
“No, I suppose it would be strange. In truth, I would not wish to marry any time soon, either. I have only been out since last spring. Aunt Maggie says that is hardly any time at all to enjoy the life of a lively young woman with the good fortune to live in town.”
“Those are wise words,” Elizabeth said, nodding. “Soon enough you shall marry and be responsible for a household and eventually children. That is, if you wish to. You need never marry at all if you do not like.”
“You are quite radical, Lizzy Bennet. What would Mama say?” Lydia smiled.
“Oh, she would have been beside herself. But with Mary and Kitty so well-settled and Jane as the mistress of Longbourn, it does relieve some of the pressure from the family. We will always have a home,” Elizabeth said. She suddenly became violently sick of packing, and gestured to the small sofa near the window in the room. She and Lydia flopped down on it with great exaggeration.
“That is true. Did you become a governess to relieve some of the financial burden on the Gardiners? They always hated that you did not stay,” Lydia said, moving some of her fair, fluffy curls out of her eyes.
Elizabeth was quiet for a moment. “No, not truly. I just could not bear to be dependent on anybody. Not to rely on their goodness, or not making them cross. A woman has so few choices. If independence is an option, she ought to try it.”
“And now your novel! That will only give you greater independence, for I believe it will do very well. Did you know that Kitty told me that her neighbor brought the title up to her? Lord, how she laughed! She said was already quite familiar with the book, and anybody who wished to be fashionable would read it. No doubt her neighbor told that tale up and down Paddington. It will be good for sales, and requests at the libraries.”
Elizabeth looked over at Lydia with a great deal of fondness, and squeezed her hand. “What would I do without my dear sisters? I shudder to think!”
Derbyshire
April 1815
“Damn me, what a time to be out of action!” Richard hissed. He had been a guest at Pemberley for several weeks, having grown weary of his mother’s attempts at settling his life. Darcy had offered him refuge.
They were at breakfast, reading over the papers, and taking in the latest news of Napoleon’s doings. Richard threw the paper down onto the table in a huff. His arm was not better, but neither was it worse, and with this he must be content.
“Do your contacts fear a land invasion?” Darcy asked.
“Is that not what we have always feared and fought against? When the varmint will not go away, it certainly fans the flames of that fear. But no, certainly the navy will protect our shores closely at such a time. Although, I do wonder…” Richard trailed off.
“Can you bear to be away from your brethren right now?” Darcy asked. He sounded teasing, but in truth he wondered if Richard could bear it.
“I will have to find some way. Damn. I would be on my horse to the home office right now, if I could,” he said.
“I know it, cuz,” Darcy answered, tempering his voice for the sympathy Richard did not wish to hear. After a beat, he said, “It is hardly a call off to war, and it is something I cannot believe I am voicing, but…”
“What?”
“We have not been to visit Aunt Catherine in many years –”
“What? No!” Richard cried out.
“She is Phoebe’s grandmother,” Darcy said.
“Well of course she is, but she is also the fire-breathing dragon of Kent!” Richard answered.
“I hardly think it is so anymore. She is so mild now,” Darcy said. “She could use our company, and we can break our journey in town. Perhaps you will be able to gain some intelligence about the military’s next moves?”
Richard was quiet, considering. Darcy had offered because duty to their aunt provided a convenient conduit for Richard’s desire to be closer to some activity or some news, rather than tucked away safely while the little Corsican attempted to claw his way back to power.
“Come, let us go. Did you know Phoebe has been corresponding with Lady Catherine?” Darcy said.
“Not at all. Perhaps we ought to go. After all, it is only right that we give our aunt time with her granddaughter,” Richard said. “And perhaps I can call in at the home office, to see if there is any way I might assist.”
“Just so,” Darcy said.
And a short few days later they were off to London with Phoebe, who most excitedly followed along with her map of England. “Miss Owen, did you know that Miss Bennet taught me how to use a map? Miss Owen, did you know that Miss Bennett is from Hertfordshire? I wonder if we are passing her house even now. Miss Owen, do you know any more conundrums yet? Miss Bennet was very good at them.” Darcy could hardly blame the child. He thought often of Miss Bennet, too.
In town, he escorted Phoebe and Miss Owen to the menagerie and Gunther’s while Richard visited army contacts to learn more of their plans and what they thought Boney was up to.
After a month, they made their way to Kent, Phoebe’s beloved map out and present for all to follow along as they wended southeast.
In a rather shocking turn of events, as the carriage pulled into the circular drive of Rosings park, Darcy could see the front door open, and instead of merely the butler and housekeeper, Lady Catherine was brought out.
Darcy could see her leaning on her cane, which had always been merely for show in times past. She was supported by her maid, but Darcy could see the proud lift of her chin, despite looking so advanced in years.
“Look, it is your grandmama,” he said, leaning over to Phoebe, who suddenly seemed very shy. She folded up her map and furiously tapped one leg.
Darcy reached over and took her hand. “She will be very glad to see you, you know. Grandmama will probably wish to show you your Mama’s room and any of her old things, and tell you stories about Rosings. One day it will be yours, you know.”
“I know. She told me in a letter,” Phoebe answered.
“Are you nervous?” Darcy asked.
“No,” Phoebe said, clearly very nervous indeed.
“Courage, dear girl,” Richard said from his seat in the carriage, while Miss Owen smiled.
“Do you know your Grandmama never once met me or Cousin Richard out on the steps?” Darcy said.
“Really? Why not?” Phoebe asked.
“She was always glad we were come to visit, but she was never so very excited about it. And now look at her. She is so pleased you are here that she cannot wait inside the house.”
“Really,” Phoebe said. “She is happy to see me?”
“I promise it is so,” Darcy said.
Phoebe looked thoughtful and her leg calmed. She peered out the window past Darcy and watched as they drew closer to Lady Catherine’s front steps, and Richard caught his eye to smile.
When the carriage stopped and Phoebe was handed down, she raced up the steps and curtsied to her grandmama. Lady Catherine did something rather undignified. She smiled, laughed, and bent to allow Phoebe to throw her arms around her.
And so passed the most pleasant weeks Darcy had ever spent at Rosings. They rode in Anne’s old phaeton and Darcy allowed Phoebe the reigns at times. Richard had managed to find some equilibrium between the papers and correspondence from a network of military connections to feel sufficiently in the know so as not to feel completely blocked out from the happenings across the channel.
And Aunt Catherine was quite a different creature. Darcy marveled at the lady’s indulgence toward her grandchild. Lady Catherine had slowed. Time and tragedy had made her more feeble in person, but somehow she had rallied enough to open her heart to Anne’s child. The two spent hours together in the salon and conservatory, as well as in the garden. Lady Catherine was prevailed upon to recall any fairy stories she knew of Kent, and even learned “Lizzy Lindsey” and “The Jolly Young Waterman”. Darcy stood outside the music room one day, listening to Miss Owen playing the ebullient chords to many of Phoebe’s favorite songs. He peeked through the door in awe as he heard his formidable aunt sing, “For this jolly young waterman ne’er was in want of a fare…”
He wrote to his Aunt Matlock while they were installed at Rosings, and expressed his wonder at Lady Catherine’s state. “It is almost as if she is a different person, I wonder if she is ill?” He mused in his letter.
His Aunt Matlock’s response put any such worry out of his mind. “My dear Darcy, what a mother would never tolerate in a child she often welcomes and encourages in a grandchild. It is the way of things, be not alarmed, and let Catherine enjoy her play with Phoebe.”
They were pleasant days, indeed.
Hertfordshire
May 1815
Elizabeth had long since reacquainted herself with the fields around Longbourn, as well as all the paths and trails around Meryton. Though she had ridden a few times, her preferred way of traveling would always be on foot. However, whenever she accompanied Jane, they were most often out in the gig. Jane had too many responsibilities to take long walks, particularly when there were tenants to be met or matters of the estate to which she must tend.
The weather had turned quite fine over the last few days, making the roads connecting Longbourn’s farms quite good for quick travel. They were off to visit the Fletchers, who had been tenants on the estate for most of Jane’s life. Old Mrs. Fletcher was poorly, and the vicar mentioned she was not likely to survive many more weeks. Young Mrs. Fletcher had just had her fifth baby, and therefore Jane and Elizabeth were coming to see if the family was in need of any assistance, as planting season was about to get underway.
Jane drove the gig skillfully, taking them past the path to Oakham Mount and along the home farm’s apple orchard. A gust of wind came by and a sweet barrage of apple blossom petals rained over the two of them. They laughed, and Elizabeth looked down at the little dots of pink now adorning their skirts. Jane had moved into her grays and lavenders, but Elizabeth wore color and rejoiced in the feeling of being able to indulge a small amount of vanity.
“Do you find you mind all the work, Jane?” Elizabeth asked.
“What do you mean?” Jane spied a rut in the lane some yards ahead and guided the horse slightly right on the path.
“Of running Longbourn. It is a great deal of work, attending to the needs of the farmers, to the home farm, and to say nothing of raising two children and running the house. Do you wish things were different?” Elizabeth asked.
Jane was thoughtful, as always. She appeared to be pondering Elizabeth’s rather forward question with great consideration, and no sign of annoyance. Jane knew Elizabeth’s greatest desire was to understand the world around her, and those in it. So after a moment’s reflection, she said, “I do not mind the work. There are days and weeks where it often feels like too much, but I remind myself that I am capable, and likely just need a small respite. So those are the days where I ask the steward to see to an extra task or two, or where I delegate the hiring of some extra help to Mrs. Hill.”
Elizabeth knew her next question was extremely impudent, but asked it nonetheless. “Do you find things are easier or more difficult without Mr. Collins here?”
Jane was quiet again and Elizabeth began to apologize, but Jane placed a hand on her arm. “You were not wrong all those years ago, Lizzy. Mr. Collins was not an intelligent man, but had the misfortune of believing himself to be one. He did not necessarily have the respect of many of our neighbors or the servants. I pitied him for that, and it is never a good thing for pity to be a part of marriage. Sympathy, certainly.”
She let out a great heaving sigh. “The truth is, things are not so different with Mr. Collins gone. Most of the work already fell to me.”
“Dear Jane!” Elizabeth placed her hand over Jane’s where it already sat on her arm. “Is there nothing that can be done? Perhaps an understeward?”
“Dearest Lizzy, I did not say that I was unhappy that the work mostly fell to me. Now there is simply no pretence that it is any other way,” Jane smiled. “Papa was a somewhat lackadaisical master of Longbourn, and much more could have been done to strengthen the estate. I think we all knew that. Mr. Collins knew so little about how the estate worked that he was happy to leave the inner workings to others.”
“I believe Aunt and Uncle Gardiner told me as much. They say that you’ve increased the yields and have been saving a great deal of the income ever since Old Mr. Collins died.”
“It is true. We were able to save more than half of the profits every year, and to increase the profits as well,” Jane said. “Uncle Edward has rather aggressively invested the portion intended for Rosie’s dowry, along with the £200 pounds saved for me out of Papa’s accounts, and my thousand from Mama. I intend to use those funds for my old age. You know we built a dower house last year? Would that we had it when our parents were alive, it might have set Mama’s fears aside. Right now it is being rented, so it is helping to add to our savings until we need it. All told, we have £5,000 set aside so far for Rosie, then I have nearly £2,000 for myself, and that will certainly grow over the years. I add more to Rosie’s dowry than my own funds. And of course, the rest is for Jamie and Longbourn.”
Elizabeth was quiet. “Jane, that is a marvel. Well done! Perhaps all estates should be run by women.”
“Perhaps they should! Though I do not mean to boast, I feel proud of what I have managed to do. I was so young when I accepted Mr. Collins. I would never wish away any choice that brought me Jamie and Rosie, but certainly I might have made different decisions if I was a few years older when it all happened. I did all I could to respect and esteem him as a husband, but I never loved him. I do not think he really understood how to love me, either. You and I always wished to marry for love.”
“Those are a child’s romantic notions, Jane. However, it is a neat logical lock: I will never allow myself to fall in love, therefore I will never marry. Safe as can be!” Elizabeth laughed. “And what of you? When you are out of mourning we shall have set up a moat around the house, for we shall be set upon by lovesick men from all over the county.”
“Very amusing, Elizabeth,” Jane said wryly as they turned onto the road for the Fletchers’ place. They pulled up in front of the house a moment later and gratefully accepted the help of the Fletchers’ oldest boy in being handed down. Jane spoke kindly with the spindly, blushing youth while Elizabeth gathered a basket they had put together of some restoratives for Old Mrs. Fletcher and a few treats from Longbourn’s pantry for the rest of the family.
They spent a quarter of an hour visiting with the family, holding the newest babe and hearing how poor Old Mrs. Fletcher did. Young Mrs. Fletcher did confess that she needed a bit more help in nursing her mother-in-law as well as caring for the child and the rest of the family. Jane offered the suggestion of Sally Miller, a young girl who Mrs. Hill had been training at Longbourn. “Sally is a very hard worker, and we would be glad to send her over from Longbourn for a few hours a day, Mrs. Fletcher.”
The relief that washed over Mrs. Fletcher’s face seemed to lighten the very atmosphere of the room. She and Jane discussed the details while Elizabeth picked up the babe and began to bounce and walk with her.
How interesting to see her dear, sweet Jane as the manager of such a little kingdom as Longbourn! And to see how she had made it more than her husband or father or even grandfather had been able to do. She saw the care in the increased yields and stores for difficult times ahead, and the careful planning of the purchase of one of Netherfield’s parcels of land. The very building of a dower house!
Elizabeth walked the baby over to the window and thought about the rest of the day’s work. They would return to the house in time for luncheon and a happy chat with the children. Elizabeth would spend a couple of hours teaching them lessons, and then she would take a short walk and write until dinner. The days had developed their own pleasing rhythm, Longbourn thrumming all around them like a content little hive.
She adjusted the blanket around the baby and leaned down quietly to say, “Oh, yes, I stand my earlier supposition. More women could manage estates. The world would be quite a different place, Little One!”
Devonshire
July 1815
“And so the married state pleases you, Georgie?” Darcy asked as they rode their horses out before the heat of the day set in. As they were already in the south visiting Lady Catherine, Georgie had offered to host them for a few weeks before they returned to Pemberley. Darcy tried not to be overeager in his response, but he was more than pleased for the opportunity to check in on his little sister. Therefore from Kent to Devonshire they had gone, Phoebe with her faithful map on her lap through every mile.
Wright’s estate was built in the Stuart style, and well kept, though nowhere near in size to Pemberley. They rode their horses to the mount of a hill, and Darcy was able to look back at the house. He could see prosperity all around him, and it made him glad for his little sister, and any nieces or nephews to come.
“It does, I confess. Ambrose is an excellent husband, and he says he wishes to make me happy in all things. And he does, Will! I am so very fortunate.” She was beaming, and Darcy smiled back. He could hardly help doing so in the face of such felicity.
“I am very glad to hear it, dearest. You deserve nothing less,” he said, and Georgie inclined her head in thanks.
They began to make their way back to the stables, a fine breeze cooling them and their mounts. Georgie seemed to be forming a resolution to speak. As they passed a grove of walnut trees, she finally said, “Do you ever think of marrying again, Will?”
He winced as he remembered the scene of his proposal to Miss Bennet. He had ceased to think of it daily, but every now and then, something would remind him, and he would feel his regret anew. It had been badly done. Sometimes he wondered if he had perhaps spoken more eloquently, or with greater feeling, whether she would have accepted him. But such thoughts were useless.
“I have thought about it in the past,” he finally said.
“Do not you think Phoebe could use a mother, or some siblings?” Georgiana said very gently.
“I believe she could. But she and I are happy right now, and we managed to become so without a wife’s help,” he answered evenly.
“I have noticed that the two of you seem more at ease. I think Miss Owen quite good with her, but you must admit so much of Phoebe’s progress was due to Miss Bennet. I daresay much of my recent progress was due to her!”
“I could not agree with you more. Miss Bennet was a singular woman,” Darcy answered. A low branch blocked the path and he trotted ahead to hold it up for his sister as she passed.
“Do you know I had a letter of congratulations from her? She must have heard about my marriage from Mrs. Reynolds, or perhaps Mrs. Annesley.”
Darcy’s heart leapt in his chest. “I hope she is well?”
“Very well. Her sister has been most grateful to have her back at the family home again, and it sounds as though her return to what she calls ‘civilian life’ has gone along very happily. She said she is glad to be able to help with her niece and nephew, but also to mix more with the world again. How very solitary she must have felt. How all governesses must feel,” Georgiana said. “Still, she never seemed unhappy with her lot in life.”
“No, I think she is the sort to make the best of things. I wish her very well,” Darcy said. And it was true. He did. He refrained from voicing aloud how he felt Miss Bennet’s presence whenever he was with Phoebe, that the woman’s charming intelligence was working its way into his child’s mind. How ironic that he had once feared Miss Bennet’s influence over his child! Now he was not certain there was any way to thank her enough for it.
They rode on in companionable silence until they reached the stables. Darcy dismounted then came around to help his little sister down. She looked very grown up to him all of a sudden. Georgiana was less timid, more confident now. The months they had spent apart saw her lose a little bit of fullness in her cheeks, the last of her girlhood gone, womanhood fully arrived.
They handed their mounts over to the grooms and went inside to change for breakfast. As they entered the house, they began to part, she for the family wing, he for the guest wing, but something stopped Georgie.
“You admired Miss Bennet,” she said, folding her hands in front of her. Darcy could see how she was squeezing them together.
Darcy was still, but then he nodded.
“I think she would be an excellent mistress of Pemberley. People would talk, because they simply cannot help themselves. But I think she would make you happy, and that could overcome any true discomfort of feeling foolish,” she said, her hand on the banister, her voice gentle.
He let out a long, loud sigh. “She is gone now, Georgie. Best leave it lie,” he said. She inclined her head and merely said, “See you at breakfast, Will.”
That had been surprising. Darcy had hidden his regard all too well from the object of his affection, but his little sister had apparently been able to see right through him.
After breakfast he sat down to some correspondence. They were planning a visit to the seaside tomorrow, as they were not an hour from Ilfracombe. Darcy intended to complete as much as he possibly could today.
He had a great list of details to go over in a letter to Mr. Greenup. That had been a most satisfactory placement– the man was nearly as good as Mr. Wickham senior. He and Greenup had been debating the purchase of some new equipment and Darcy felt the time was right. Then there were letters to the Matlocks to answer, as well as a reply to a doctor in town he hoped to engage for Aunt Catherine. She had made some comments about aches in her joints, and Lady Catherine did not complain of illness, so Darcy knew it was rather serious.
Then there was a letter from Bingley. Darcy saved it for last, as a treat to wonder over. Breaking the seal, he wondered how many readings it would take before he understood Bingley’s meaning. The man’s handwriting was atrocious.
Darcy murmured to himself as he read: "Have…rented? Yes, rented, an estate in Herefordshire. No, Hertfordshire. In fact, it was Goulding’s daring. No, Goulding’s doing. He mentioned Nether…something…Park, thought it would be ideal for me…Will you come this Autumn?"
Darcy’s memory was prickled by what he was able to make out from Bingley’s letter. Goudling had known Miss Bennet as a child, back in Hertfordshire. Had not he and Bingley discussed an estate for let there?
He went cold, knowing that this estate must be near Miss Bennet’s home. Dare he go? Dare he intrude upon her notice once more?
Darcy stood up suddenly and paced, weighing the decision back and forth over and over again. Finally, he sat once more and pulled out another piece of paper.
Bingley,
I applaud you on your decision to lease an estate. It shall be an ideal way to learn how to be a landholder, and the situation sounds most eligible. If I understand your handwriting (Good God, man, when will you hire a secretary?), you are to take possession on Michalmas. If you are amenable to Phoebe and her governess and nurse joining me, I would be quite glad to join you in October. We are for Pemberley until the Harvest takes place, then we are at our leisure. Do write and let me know if this will suit.
If memory serves, Phoebe’s former governess, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, lives not far from the property you are leasing (I cannot understand your scratch, Nether-something Park? Pray write the name clearly in your next before I attempt to navigate my way thither). Miss Bennet left us to rejoin her family after her brother-in-law unexpectedly died. Perhaps she would be a good guide to establishing yourself in the neighborhood?
I am yours, etc.
Fitzwilliam Darcy