“Perhaps,” Elizabeth said with a shrug and a small smirk. “I still think I would rather she learn of an impending grandchild by letter.”
Soon the gentlemen joined them, and their conversation shifted to more general matters, including the account of a recent letter Mr. Gardiner had received from Longbourn.
“Lizzy, I received a letter from your father that I believe you would find quite intriguing,” Mr. Gardiner began, his tone deliberately measured. He studied her face for a moment, his eyes twinkling with humour. “I had intended to write to you about it, but since you are here, I can witness your reaction firsthand.”
Both Elizabeth and Darcy raised their brows almost in unison as they turned to look at Mr. Gardiner, the synchronised movement drawing a laugh from the other couple. “I am most curious to hear it,” Elizabeth said with a hint of amusement in her tone.
“I presume you already know that Mr. Collins has been in residence there for some time now. Your father is barely tolerating his presence there, but at the same time, has been teaching him how to run the estate.”
Elizabeth’s lips twitched, obviously caught between amusement and disbelief at the image of the two men attempting to work together. “My father? Teaching Mr. Collins? That is almost too ridiculous to imagine.”
Darcy leant back in his chair, his eyes sharp with curiosity. “I take it the instruction is not progressing well?”
Mr. Gardiner chuckled, shaking his head. “It seems Mr. Collins’s natural inclinations make him more of a hindrance than a help. Your father, Lizzy, described it in his usual sardonic fashion, likening the task to teaching a bull to waltz.”
This brought a genuine laugh from Elizabeth, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “That does sound like something he would say. Still, I find it difficult to believe he would put up with such a situation for long.”
“Oh, but that is where the letter becomes truly intriguing,” Mr. Gardiner continued, his grin widening. “Your father has written to ask me for advice—or rather, for assistance. He is hoping I might visit or intervene in some way to ‘provide a buffer’ between himself and Mr. Collins.”
Elizabeth barked a laugh, her disbelief obvious at the suggestion. “Surely he does not expect you to endure that man’s company any more than he can. Nor his own after the way he has treated us all over the last several years.”
Mr. Gardiner shrugged, clearly enjoying the absurdity of the situation. “He even suggested I might be better suited to dealing with Mr. Collins, given my ‘unfailing patience and tact’ and my ability to tolerate his youngest daughters who he believes are in my household.”
Darcy allowed a low chuckle to escape, his voice tinged with irony. “I cannot say I envy you that particular task, Gardiner. Your brother’s desperation is… entertaining. It might be worth it to visit Longbourn just to see how the two are managing together.”
Elizabeth glanced at her husband, her grin softening into something more mischievous. “Perhaps we should send Mr. Collins a few books on estate management as a token of goodwill. Or better yet, recommend he seek guidance elsewhere.”
“Indeed,” Darcy replied smoothly, his tone dry. “Should you write to Collins to tell him how you have managed the estate for the last several years? At least your information would be more current.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “As little as I wish to concern myself with Longbourn, I can almost pity my father for having to endure Mr. Collins. Although truly, I feel nearly as much sympathy for Mr. Collins at having to endure my father. A more selfish creature I have rarely known.”
Darcy placed a reassuring hand over hers. “It seems the two are managing well enough, particularly if your father can still find humour in the situation.”
“True,” she admitted, her voice warm. “I have every confidence that Mr. Collins will provide ample material for my father’s wit. Those two deserve each other.”
“They certainly do,” Mr. Gardiner replied with a wry smile, lifting his glass in a mock toast. “To Longbourn’s master and its heir—may their endurance outlast their mutual vexation.”
Chapter Fifty
MONDAY, 20 APRIL 1812
Colonel Fitzwilliam departed Rosings after only a few days in residence, his duties calling him back to London. There, he was to meet with Matlock’s solicitors to finalise the legal transfer of control over the estate and arrange for his own solicitors to take over his business. Upon his arrival, a letter from his mother awaited him, confirming the doctor’s grim diagnosis: Lord Matlock still lived, but his condition was dire. His entire right side remained paralysed, leaving him bedridden. When he tried to speak, his words were mostly unintelligible. The once formidable earl was now a shadow of his former self, and Fitzwilliam was left grappling with difficult decisions regarding his father’s care—especially given the revelations they had recently uncovered.
The letter also raised another pressing issue of what to do with Lord Matlock. His condition, unlikely to improve, meant Fitzwilliam would have to arrange for permanent care, adding yet another burden to the already heavy load of responsibilities now resting on his shoulders.
During the months that followed, Fitzwilliam focused on learning how to manage the estate with the steady support of his mother and grandfather. Both remained at Matlock for much of that time, offering invaluable assistance. Lady Julia, though officially residing in the dower house, did not isolate herself. Instead, she threw herself into restoring the grandeur of Matlock House, determined to ensure it would be a welcomingand charming place for the woman her son might one day bring home as his wife.
“Do you think your future wife shall like it?” Lady Julia asked one evening, standing with her son in the drawing room she had just redecorated. The soft hues of the walls, the tasteful furnishings, and the delicate drapery spoke of elegance and comfort.
Fitzwilliam, surveying the room with a critical eye, managed a faint smile as he imagined the woman he hoped would one day become his. “I am certain she will, Mother. If she does not, it will be her loss, not yours. Perhaps her hatred of your work will be the defining factor that tells me not to offer for her.”
Lady Julia patted his arm gently. “She will love it, my dear. But the important question is—will you?”
“I am unconcerned with drawing rooms,” he replied, though there was warmth in his voice. “I am more focused on ensuring that the roof does not leak and that the tenants have what they need.”
“You have grown,” she said softly, a trace of pride in her voice.
He had indeed. From dawn until late in the evening, he worked alongside the stewards of both estates, learning the intricacies of the land, its tenants, and its finances. His grandfather was an invaluable resource, offering wisdom tempered by years of experience.
