“I am in the room, you know,” Lydia joked, her smile fading as she fingered the letter Jane held. “I know I cannot go–as much as I should like to–but I can manage things while you are gone. I think?”
“Let me stay with her,” Kitty suggested, her cheeks pinking as she admitted, “As curious as I am, the three weeks there and all those days of travel to and from, well… I do not wish to go. A week, perhaps, but not the better part of four. James and I have never been apart so long by choice, and I choose not to.”
“The house party will go through Christmas! Are you certain?” Jane asked, all eyes fixing on Kitty.
“I am. I should not enjoy myself if I went; you three deserve some time for yourselves away from Longbourn. In the summer I got to stay with Aunt and Uncle in London for over a week; and Lydia went with Maria to visit the Lucus’ cousin only last month, hardly the journey you two shall go on as each was half a day’s travel, but still, I cannot recall the last time any of you went away.”
“Nor I,” Elizabeth laughed. “It is settled then; if you are certain the work is not too much for you. One of us could stay if you need extra hands.”
“I notice you did not offer yourself up,” Mary smirked, Elizabeth’s playful shove only causing it to broaden.
“I need no help, honestly,” Kitty interjected, her eyes dancing between the two of them. “The harvest is done, save a few late root vegetables and such. All of the hard work of preserving is complete. And Jane is such a fine keeper of the books, all I will do in that regard is the weekly accounts. No. It is a simple matter for Lydia and I; and a much needed trial. Once I marry I must do largely for myself–though James and I have agreed we will work together, he will have obligations to his parish. I have not been left to run things so completely before.”
“You will do remarkably well, I am certain,” Jane remarked. “Though we will do all we can to make the time we are away easy. I only wish it were not over Christmas.”
“It is what Mamma wanted,” Kitty said, her arm wrapping around Lydia, “and we are not to be alone. The Lucus’ will have us over much of the time you are gone, I am certain. Already Lady Lucus has been hinting at her desire to have me there during that time, and Maria is always glad of mine and Lydia’s company.”
“It shall be jolly,” Lydia smiled bravely, “and you will be back before twelfth night, and that has always been my favourite!”
Wrapping Lydia and Kitty in a hug, Elizabeth closed her eyes tightly, the reality of it all–spoken and unspoken–sinking in.
This was the last Christmas they would all be as they were, and yet, they would be apart. Dear Kitty would be married in the spring, and none of this would be the same.
True, they might uncover Mamma’s secrets if Lady Charmane had not been sworn to silence, yet, it came at a high cost. That of this precious time with her sisters. These final months together.
Perhaps, she should not go?
“Oh, Mamma,” Elizabeth whispered, Kitty lifting her head toward her elder sister with a creased brow and understanding smile.
If only things could remain the same forever.
Chapter 11
Staffordshire, England – 1812 – Day 1
“Darcy,” his cousin sighed from his place beside him, another rut bouncing them and Bingley upon the cushioned carriage benches, “Why must we sit in this infernal contraption?”
Brow raising, Darcy turned toward his cousin. “You rode yesterday if you recall; it is not as if you have spent days confined to this coach. One afternoon shall not see your demise. Besides which, it would not do for us to meet Lady Charmane covered in mud… we are but an hour or two from her estate.”
“Why would a grand lady, such as she, allow herself to be covered in mud?” the Colonel quipped, his lips curling at the sour expression Darcy’s face bore.
“True,” Bingley laughed lightly, “she is far too refined I imagine, to permit mud. Much less upon her person.”
Gaze drifting heavenward, Darcy shook his head.The pair of them! Unrefined. Bordering on reprobates. And good company; even if their humour proved, in many ways, to be lacking. Were it not for them and his sisters, he would either be sulking or, more likely, working himself into the ground. His sisters had rid him of the latter tendency, his friends the former.
“An hour you say?” Fitz questioned as the carriage chanced upon another rut.
“Or two,” Darcy smirked, turnabout fair play.
Leaning his head back, Fitz’s eyes flitted to the landscape outside, a light flurry of snow falling. “I hope this house party is not too often confined; a ride or a brisk walk would do me well about now.”
“The agony you endure,” Bingley teased as he closed his eyes. “Sometimes I wonder how a man as soft as yourself managed to become a colonel.”
Chuckling, Darcy nudged his now muttering cousin, the exact words hidden by the noise of the coach but either a firm rejection of Bingley’s opinion or a profanity best left unheard. Either way, an amused smirk followed the muttering as some private amusement replaced Fitz’s light ire, and soon enough he, like Bingley, settled in for an hour’s rest; Darcy resigned against such rest, if not from stubbornness than from the unsettled feel of his stomach as he contemplated the many unknowns ahead.
He would consider every possibility he could before they arrived. He would rehearse the initial pleasantries and thanks he would be expected to provide. And he would wonder how soon after arriving he might contrive an excuse to leave.
The final miles of travel would be busy indeed.
