10
In the county of Derbyshire, in the great house of Pemberley, Elizabeth Darcy sat at her pretty writing desk in the small but elegant morning room that had been her personal domain for over twenty years. Pen in hand, she was half way through a letter to her daughter and anxious for her husband’s advice.
“So, my dear, we are agreed, we shall move to London for a few weeks and Jane must bring this Celeste up from Dorset immediately.”
Mr Darcy was standing at the long window, gazing out over the beauty of Pemberley. His estate was glorious at every time of the year but with the woods a mass of amber, yellow and bronze, it was particularly vibrant and magnificent during the autumn months. Sadly it had been raining hard for two days and the beauty was a little diminished.
He turned back to his wife and seated himself on the other side of her desk. To his eye she looked hardly any different from the feisty Elizabeth Bennet he had fallen in love with many years ago. Motherhood and the duties of being mistress to his vastestablishment had not diminished the sparkle in her eyes. He struggled to keep his thoughts in order and answer her question.
“Yes, I am at a loss as to why my cousin has kept the girl’s existence a secret from the family. Her very being causes all sorts of complications with wills and inheritance matters. The Earl will not be pleased, but luckily his health is such that he sadly feels unable to meet her at present. I fear I grow concerned for his wellbeing and that son of his thinks of nothing but hunting and is as likely to break his neck as not!”
Elizabeth gently turned the conversation back to her own concerns. Her husband’s mother, who had died long before she had met him, had come from an ancient family who prided themselves on their bloodline that stretched back into the mists of written records. A new member arriving suddenly from abroad had caused considerable consternation.
“Celeste Fiorette, a pretty name—and you had no idea she existed?”
Darcy shook his head, irritation written clear on his face. “No, Lizzy, none at all. We were told very little of that piece of family history when we were growing up. I knew, as youngsters do from servants’ gossip, that there was a scandal concerning Rose, my mother’s sister who was, of course, younger than her by some considerable years. My father told me, just before he died, that Rose had run away with an Italian groom and been disowned. It had been firmly believed by all, that she had died out in Italy. There has never been any mention of her marrying the groom or having a daughter, let alone a granddaughter!”
He stood up and paced impatiently around the room. “I have written to the lawyers to ask them to make immediate enquiries. But, dear Lizzy, do you think there is any truth in Jane’s poorly hidden hint in her letter that this Celeste and Fitzwilliam are to be married? Do you think you may have imaginedthe indication? It seems quite incredible: he is not a young, impulsive fellow anymore.”
Elizabeth tried not to smile. Was it so surprising that a man of almost the same age as her own husband could fall in love?
Darcy turned and caught the mischievous expression in her eyes. For a second he was offended that she was laughing at him, then remembered the way they had spent a good part of the previous night together and found himself smiling back at his only love.
“We shall soon find out the truth of the matter in London. I daresay that once Celeste is established with our family at Matlock House, if the Colonel has strong feelings for her, then he will leave Deerwood and adjourn to his own house in town to be near her.”
“Jane sounded in better spirits.”
Elizabeth nodded her agreement. “Indeed, and I have received a short note from Susannah saying she is much improved in health and disposition which is very good news. I am praying that all the heartaches and unpleasantness of the past few months are now over. I have spoken again to Anne about her behaviour and although it was clumsily done, I do believe she only had her sister’s best interests at heart. Anne is always so sure she is right in everything she does.”
She fell silent for a moment, tempted to say that his eldest daughter had inherited so many of Mr Darcy’s more unlovable character traits, then decided this was not the best moment.
“I only hope that Jane is not over exerting herself in any way. But I cannot think that there is much to do at Deerwood at this time of year except rest and restore her energy.
“Jane writes warmly of this Dr Moore and Anne tells me that she has met Mr Archer Maitland several times whilst staying in London with Caroline. I shall need to find out more about that relationship. Anne has already refused Digby Frobisher andseveral other young men to my knowledge. Perhaps this Archer Maitland is more to her taste.”
Mr Darcy leant back in his chair and admired the new Turner painting he had just bought and hung on the wall of his wife’s private drawing room. He sighed heavily.
“Daughters are a great trial, my love. I have no great affection for your mother, as you well know, but of late, I have begun to have a little sympathy with her having five of you to deal with. Three are quite enough! The boys do not cause me nearly so many sleepless nights.”
Elizabeth bit her lip. The health of her youngest, Henry, who was now a very new midshipman in the navy, caused her concern. She did not understand why her husband could accept so readily that Henry might come to harm at any time. It was the one thing that they disagreed upon and she could see no way to resolving the problem.
“Mama! Mama! Are you there?” The door was flung open and their youngest daughter stood, her long black curls sparkling with rain drops, her eyes shining, her cheeks rosy from running. “I met the post boy on my walk and ran straight back—here, letters from both my brothers for you and, much more exciting, a letter from our dear cousin Catherine with such good tidings. There is to be a new resident at Courtney Castle in the next few months!”
“Bennetta! Look at the state of you. Your petticoat is at least three inches deep in mud!”
The young girl gazed down at her ruined skirts and then looked up in bewilderment at the sound of her parents laughing together at a memory of one of their first meetings they would cherish for ever. Their laughter gave Bennetta a very odd feeling, one she had often had before and hated—that of being shut out, excluded from the bubble of happiness that surrounded them.
Oh, to be fair her mama often reached out and surrounded her with love and affection, but Bennetta knew deep down that her papa still struggled with the scars she had inflicted on him when her birth had put his wife in danger of dying. He loved her, she knew that, but there was always that reserve that hurt her so much that she continually pushed it away, busying herself with everything and anything to stop thinking about the feeling of loss it engendered in her.
So she did not ask what had caused their laughter and having learnt from them that they would all soon be travelling to London, she left them happily reading the latest news from Henry, who was at sea with the fleet and from Fitz who had just gone back to college.
Upstairs, she met Anne in the passage as she hurried to her room, guiltily aware that she was shedding mud at every step.
“It is official—we are to go to London to meet our new cousin, Celeste. Jane is to escort her up from Dorset. I long to hear all her stories of life in Italy. I wonder if we will be able to understand her? I have no Italian at all, except for a few words from various songs. And there is splendid news from Catherine—there will soon be a new addition to their family!”
Her elder sister shrugged; she still thought it most odd that their poor Collins relation was now Lady Courtney and she had absolutely no interest in this Celeste. “Then let us hope Catherine produces a boy, otherwise the poor thing will have to keep on having children year after year!”
“Really, Anne, you are so weird. Surely having children is all part of marriage. Well, I am happy for them, even if you are not.” She poked out her tongue, forgetting that she had now reached the vast age of 18 and swept past her sister into her room.
