“It is a far cry from a leaky roof, but I thank you all the same.” Waving as Fitzwilliam turned his horse to leave, Mr. Quinton added, “Be sure to give my regards to your mother, and thank her for the preserves! Never known a kinder woman.”
“I shall be sure to. Be well,” Fitzwilliam called over his shoulder as he worked his horse to a trot.
Mr. Quinton was not wrong. His mother surely was one of the kindest women. Generous, compassionate, and, as his father had said, stubborn. A fine quality when she chose to help another. Perhaps less than desirable when he had wished to avoid his studies.
Shifting the reins to his other hand, Fitzwilliam tugged uselessly at his cravat.His days at Oxford had never proved as hot as this, save in one or two classrooms on the rare cloudless day in the middle of the year.
Perhaps Mother might be persuaded to send one of the servants–or better yet, himself–into the icehouse for a small chunk of ice?After being out all day, even she might see the wisdom in using the ice for unextraordinary uses?
Wiping his damp brow, he nodded.
Yes. He would certainly ask.
∞∞∞
Home in sight, Fitzwilliam prepared to nudge his mount into a gallop before thinking better of it.It would not be kind to the animal in such heat. Besides which, Mother would be cross if he and his horse came home with more dust and lather than required. No need to be out of her good graces before he even suggested having ice.
“Whoa,” he directed, giving slight pressure to the reins as he did. “What in the blazes?”
Dozens of people milled in front of their residence; soft murmurs, slumped postures, and either wringing hands or hats clenched before them as he rode near.
Were those young women on the porch holding handkerchiefs to their eyes his sisters?
Stilling his gelding, Fitzwilliam dismounted just before he reached the crush of people, the sudden silence causing him to stiffen.
What in the duce was the matter?
“Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Jarvis said, tone equal parts direct and hesitant. “I. I am sorry. I wish I had the words to… rather, I would say anything else if I might. However.”
“However?” Fitzwilliam questioned, brows pinched as he looked between the man before him and his two weeping sisters. “What has happened? Tell me at once!”
“Your parents…” he forced, hands rubbing against his sides, “they met with an accident. No one saw what spooked the horse, only… only how, in spite of your father’s best efforts… their gig flew off the road, end over end. They… they neither of them survived.” Wiping at his eyes, he continued, “You have all of our condolences. They did not suffer long, should that lend you any comfort. It all occurred in a moment.”
Dead? No. There. There had to be a mistake. Yes. A mistake.
Moving toward his sisters, the reins in his hand fell to the ground.
A terrible mistake. A…
“Oh, Fitzwilliam,” Georgiana cried as she threw herself into his chest; Catherine leaning against a post as she stared past him.
A horrible mistake.
Chapter 2
Hertfordshire, England – 1808
“Mr. Bennet,” Mrs. Bennet cried as she hurried into the drawing room; Elizabeth, turning her gaze from the chessboard to her mother with great interest. “Have you heard the news? Lord Ellage is to leave Netherfield Park! For good it seems. He aims to lease it if he is able, but you know few families would do so; besides which, it would be better for us all if he sold it, for what of his tenants, and the future of Meryton even as it is so near… and what of grand balls? Only local assemblies, which rarely bring in men of good fortune. Who would be worthy of marrying our daughters? Indeed, what man of worth in connection or title might attend such a local, unassuming affair. No. I fear it is the end of us all!”
“Who indeed, Madam? I fear spinsters, the lot of them–if I am fortunate, I shall die before that day arrives.”
“Oh, Mr. Bennet! My poor nerves cannot take it; if you die we shall be for the hedgerows, I am certain. Mr. Collins will have no compassion, the miserable sod.”
Fanning herself, Mrs. Bennet lay down on the settee.
Mother would be calling for her smelling salts any moment. Then she would moan and take to her bed with her door wide open for all to hear… and she would stay there a whole day at least. Perhaps,Elizabeth considered,just this once Father’s teasing might prove less than amusing.
“Mamma,” Elizabeth hurried before Father could tease her further. “Jane must surely marry, for she is a great beauty–all say so. Indeed, Jane is only eighteen next month, and Netherfield may be let quickly, for it is a fine property. And that would certainly bring many wealthy gentlemen to the area.”
