Georgiana nodded silently, and Elizabeth could see her jaw clenching as she grasped for this inner determination Elizabeth claimed she possessed. “I needn’t doallof it, Elizabeth?” she ventured. “Only what a mistress might—as my mother did? Surely Richard, and your uncle for now, and the steward, they will manage the rest?”
“That seems appropriate,” Elizabeth smiled.
“And… perhaps we may still be merry from time to time? I should hate to prove a disappointment to Lydia. It seems to have cheered her some to be here with us.”
“Naturally, we may. Did you and my sister have some particular activity planned?”
“Oh, yes! I wanted to take Lydia about the grounds now that the weather has improved.”
“Well, then,” Elizabeth mused, “perhaps if the weather is fine enough, we shall take the air together and perhaps even make a picnic of it. Tomorrow.”
Chapter twenty-nine
Matlock House, London
TheEarlofMatlockwas lounging comfortably in his drawing room, his newspaper in one hand and a warm brandy in the other. By his side rested the last note from Richard, detailing the goings on at Pemberley, and it was this that had set his father to drink.
“The flocks! A new harp! That is what my son writes of. No mention of his plans for marriage, of bringing Georgiana back to Town. He does not even speak of the marriage announcement, and I am certain he has had my letter by now! Egad,” the earl snatched up the letter again, “he writes more about the stables than his future bride!”
“Father, you are concerned for nothing,” comforted his eldest son. “Pemberley shall not suffer for Richard’s stewardship, and in due time, he will come to understand his duties as well as Darcy did.”
The father coughed a little after sipping his brandy and shook his head. “I was a fool to send him there! Richard has never cared a jot for estates and houses and the like. He knows nothing of what is to be done! But for your duties here, I should have sent you to be sent to Pemberley to advise him.”
“Me! Ah, Father, did you not always fear that I would fill the stables with racehorses and the house with French maids and chefs and some other foolishness?”
The earl lifted his glass again, chuckling as he admired its contents. “You would be just as likely to raze the farms and set up a woolen mill or some other blasphemous monstrosity.” He sighed and swirled his drink. “I suppose you are right. Richard, I have appointed, and Richard it shall be. Georgiana is fond of him. I anticipate that it shall be no great leap to marriage. Nature will take its course eventually.”
“Marriage!” snorted Reginald. “Richard would not know what to do with a wife if she were to throw herself into his arms.”
“I fancy the boy has put one or two things together,” the earl retorted drily.
“It is not that, Father. A husband must be tied to his wife, do you know. Richard has too much of the soldier in him. Like his namesake, the Lionheart I should say, always off again for some mission or another. Bind him to domestic life against his wishes, and he will make both himself and my cousin miserable. I should be sorry to see it, Father. Perhaps I might counsel him on the keeping of a wife’s heart. Though we do fight our fair share, few are as blessed as Priscilla and I in their marriage. I would see the same sort of devotion in my brother and cousin.”
“I doubt he will listen, but it is a noble thought. Speaking of Priscilla,” the earl sipped his brandy, “how is she recovering from her illness?”
Reginald shook his head, his face darkening gloomily. “She is not. The physician saw her again today, and he fears the worst.”
Fitzwilliam straightened. “I had not heard this. Is her illness more serious than a lost pregnancy?”
Reginald paused, catching his father’s eye significantly. “Consumption,” he whispered.
The earl’s glass clinked slowly to the table. He set aside his paper and studied his eldest son. “How long?”
Reginald shrugged and shielded his eyes with his hand. When he spoke again, it was in a broken voice. “Weeks, perhaps, if she is lucky. That is what the physician said, but I should be surprised if she lasts many more days. She was never strong, even before the pregnancy. She tried to hide it, but her health has been failing for over a year, I should think. She has been seeing the doctor for nearly that long. I think it was a week ago that she wrote at last for her mother to attend her. Father, I do not know what I shall do when I lose her! I have grown rather fond of a wife about the house to govern me and to keep me company.”
Fitzwilliam sagged back in his chair. “Had I only known! I am sorry, my boy.”
Reginald drew a ragged breath and turned his head aside to cough faintly. “I have brought in the finest surgeons. One speaks cautiously of hope, but I fear it is more for Priscilla’s benefit than my own.”
The earl pursed his lips. “Do all you can for her, naturally, but we must make plans against the worst.”
“Plans? I pray you not to bury my wife before she is gone, Father.”
“You must have an heir, and from what you say, Priscilla shall never bear one. Anne has grown stronger, and she needs a husband. It would do no harm to bring Rosings into the fold, eh?”
“And risk another sickly bride! No, Father, I could not bear it. I do not wish to think of losing one wife. It would kill me to suffer this again!”
The earl grunted in sympathy. “Perhaps you are right,” he admitted. His busy brows worked for a moment. “Perhapsyoushould marry Georgiana when the time comes, for it is you who require an heir to pass on the title, not Richard. Additionally, Pemberley is far too valuable to trust to the management of a man unused to such duties. Richard would do well enough with Rosings, for he has helped Darcy with its oversight for some years already.”
