“Of course,” Elizabeth replied, resettling the baby in his arms. Watching as he peered down at the tiny human, she thought it quite a sight to behold as the colonel cooed nonsense to his new relation, receiving an equally incomprehensible babble in return. Richard would be a natural father, unlike the cold, distant man to whom he had been sired.
“Duncan Fitzwilliam Bennet Darcy,” the colonel repeated, and sniffed the child’s head deeply. Clean babies held a magical scentthat some found irresistible, and clearly, the Earl of Matlock was not immune as he brushed a kiss upon the down hair.
“A fine name, but what shall you call me? Cousin seems too generic, and Colonel far too formal. What say you to Uncle Richard?” he inquired, seeking approval from Elizabeth and Darcy which was immediately granted.
“A new life, that is what is needed around here! There has been far too much darkness, it has become unbearable!”
The declaration, made with such a ferocity, nearly made Elizabeth demand her child back. It was rather like some fictional monster in a novel, who having found an opportunity to restore its humanity, must offer a sacrifice. But her fears were unfounded, and no doubt intensified by the surroundings. Leading the way inside, the medieval nature of the house was far more prevalent. A great hall, with buttresses reaching three stories in height, made their footsteps echo as their host strode past full suits of armor and other implements of war that adorned a massive fireplace. Gazing upward, Elizabeth’s head spun imaging bats flying amongst the wooden beams. What was making her so fanciful? Redbyrne was no different than many other houses of its age, yet it was not until they were settled in a comfortable, if not a bit faded parlor, that her unease began to lessen. Now having her child returned, Elizabeth felt foolish but gave her son one last caress before he was swept away once again. This time, to whatever guest chamber they would reside, while she and Darcy learnt of all that had transpired which could not be contained properly in a letter. Having rung for refreshments the moment the carriages were spotted, tea arrived quickly, complete with a steaming fragrant pot amongst an array of delicacies. But despite the length of the journey, no one seemed the slightest hungry and sipped the tea as unsaidtensions hung in the air, waiting for someone, or something to break the sudden silence.
After a few minutes, the lessons in hospitality, even though it be not her home, prodded Elizabeth to speak. That, and a terrible curiosity, despite the circumstances that demanded to be satiated.
“Richard...do tell us everything. I know Darcy is of the same mind, we prefer to hear it directly from you. What exactly was the state of affairs when you arrived home? Your letter spoke of the desire to wed, but not as to why there is such urgency. Surely it is not simply the responsibility of the title?” she inquired, hoping that her words did not come across as insensitive.
The Earl of Matlock seemed to survey the chamber, as if someone was lurking in a corner, ready to pounce should he say anything wrong. Rising, he placed a finger to his lips, and secured the door from the inside, as well as the hidden panel that led to the servants’ passage before speaking.
“Is it not horrid that I must seek this level of privacy in my own home?” he said at last, but did not wait for agreement, “I have been away so much that many of the servants are strangers, and as yet, I do not know who can be trusted. Aunt Catherine was already here when I managed to arrive, over a week since the accident, and as you know, she has a way of convincing others to do her bidding. And while I am grateful to her for seeing to the funerary arrangements, it is clear that she does not see an end to her obligations at Redbyrne. At the moment however, we need not fear her, she went into town early, on some sort of errand, and is not yet aware of your coming. Fortunately, although rather limited, I too, have my eyes and ears about the place and it was to the post she was headed, with a considerable stack of letters. I fear what they contain...”
“Let her say what she will, if any of it proves wrong, she has only herself to blame for embarrassment,” Darcy insisted, but Elizabeth, feeling that something had been set in motion, sighed heavily.
“What, dearest? What can she possibly do?” Darcy added.
“Make our lives miserable, for that has always been her greatest desire.”
It was a difficult truth, and one to which, Richard Fitzwilliam now, wholeheartedly agreed. “Indeed, for the house was entirely under her command when I arrived, right down to the lowest scullery maid. She sees herself as doing me some great favor, but we all know it is not. I had barely changed out of my dusty uniform before she insisted upon an audience. “Tea, Richard...it is the cure of all ails, and the brew in which the world’s trials are mended.” I believe that is what she said. But what was more terrifying was the use of my Christian name. I daresay, it was the first she has ever uttered it! Even as a child, I was always ‘Fitzwilliam’ and my brother, ‘Young Matlock’. It was that which made me realize she had something planned that I was not going to find agreeable.”
“Marriage?” Darcy added, smiling slightly. This was no laughing matter, but he could not repress his amusement. At one time, he had been the target of his aunt’s machinations. A marriage to her own daughter, claiming an engagement promise made by his mother on her deathbed. Well, it seemed that death, once again, was the tool to be used. Only this time, poor Richard was the target and not some bystander, deemed unworthy due to his lack of fortune. No, death had now made his cousin a very wealthy man, and unfortunately, the newest prize of fortune hunters.
“Is Anne no longer available?” Elizabeth ventured, poking her husband in the ribs for his mirth. It was easy to look back uponit all, but only when the danger was past. The prospect of being wed to someone wholly unsuitable was horrifying, especially for the lady, for she, upon the exchange of vows, lost everything. Oh, to be fair, a title or a fine house might be gained, but what was such worth if one was miserable? However, it was quickly made known that Lady Catherine’s daughter had finally taken a stand against her mother, causing Elizabeth to nearly choke on her tea as Richard Fitzwilliam divulged a barely kept secret.
“Anne, God bless her, has married, and to a man of her choice. Unfortunately, that means it was without her mother’s approval.”
“Oh my!” Elizabeth muttered, followed by Darcy’s “Good for her!” but both knew that the consequences of defying Lady Catherine de Bourgh would be severe.
“Indeed. Cousin Anne, having reached her majority, chose to marry Mr. Collins’ curate. A Herbert Renbury. Fine fellow, even Scottish, but as you can imagine, the uproar was considerable,” Fitzwilliam admitted, allowing a smile to break his features, but it was fleeting as the happiness of his cousin, now threatened his own. “No, Anne is not a possibility, nor did Aunt Catherine seem to have any ready candidates, but she did stress the necessity of marriage....as soon as possible.”
“But surely, with being in mourning....” Elizabeth began, but instantly realized that such a formality would never stop the formidable Catherine de Bourgh. No, if anything, the woman would use sympathy as a tool for her own purposes.
“I did mention that, but she laughed, and called father an old fool and Edward a drunkard.”
For several moments, all three absorbed the brutality of the comment, for despite any truth of it, one expected better froma supposedly grieving sister and aunt. However, if anything, none were terribly surprised by the callousness, and now, sought merely to counter any measures in the making.
“Well then, our aunt may be right about the necessity of marriage, but it must be on your own terms. Tell me honestly Richard, what is it that you want?” Darcy insisted bluntly.
“I... I do not know. Marriage always seemed like something others did, but now? I must admit to some jealousy, seeing you two so content, is it wrong of me to want the same?”
To this, Elizabeth’s eyes twinkled for she could not resist one bout of teasing. At present, she had but one unmarried sister. “If a wife is all you wish...there is always my sister Kitty, wouldn’t that set Lady Catherine’s teeth on edge?”
This time, everyone laughed, for that option was out of the question. Having made each other’s acquaintance, there were never two people more unsuited, that is, unless one recalled the disastrous proposal Elizabeth suffered at the hands of her cousin William Collins. No, if the thirteenth Earl of Matlock was to find a bride, they must start from scratch, and that, was a very difficult undertaking.
~Four~
Several hours later, after Elizabeth took time to rest and tend to her child, Darcy joined the new Lord Matlock in his first meeting with the estate steward. Mr. Harry Jeffers, a man of middle years, whose slim build and dark hair belied his age, had served Redbyrne for nearly two decades, recalling the times when Richard Fitzwilliam was just a boy.
“Terrible thing, death is, but we must persevere,” the steward said in way of condolences. But, if truth were told, Mr. Jeffers had held no affection for his former employer, and little respect. However, his salary had been excellent, and provided the estate remained profitable, there had been no arguments. Producing the ledgers for the new heir’s review, Jeffers sighed sadly.
“As you can see, my Lord, all is in order. Redbyrne has done well in the wool industry, but there are several repairs and improvements that would increase that considerably. Your late father was hesitant.... that is, he had other priorities.”
“You mean he was miserly, unless spending upon himself or my brother’s debts, and please, none of this ‘My Lord’ business, I cannot bear it. I have always been Richard to you, sir, and prefer it to remain so.”
