Chapter Twelve
Elizabeth, decked in a yellow dress with a cream corset, walked down the stairs to the dining hall. Hair half up, half down; just as her mother had directed. Her dark curls reaching just below her waist on her left side. Little yellow flowers adorned her dark brown hair as well. Pearl drop earrings and a pendant necklace hanging from her slender neck. Eyes heavily plastered in pearl powder and eye paint, trying to mask the redness and swollenness of them.
"My dear little one, you look beautiful!" Richard exclaimed as she finished descending the stairs.
"Thank you, Richard," a slight smile crossed her lips, "I see Mother has dressed us both in our best." She smirked, eyeing Richard dressed in his regimentals.
"Yes, well, what Mother asks for, Mother receives, besides I try to appease her while I can. You know how she reacts when I leave. If this dress makes her a little more proud of me or a little less on edge of me putting my life in danger, then I shall dress in my uniform."
"Richard, you do know I am proud of you? What you do, it is a great sacrifice, and I do not know how many people tell you, but thank you, Richard."
Richard was holding his sister's hand looking at his shoes. He cleared his throat a couple of times before looking up at her.
"Thank you, Elizabeth … that means very much to me. Now, let us appease our guests with our presence." Richard teased.
"Yes, I think a certain Lady Morton will be very much appeased with your presence, dear brother," Elizabeth jested.
Richard coughed, "What?! I have not the slightest idea of what you speak of. I am completely astonished you would suggest such a notion, Elizabeth. Who are you, and what have you done with my sister?" Richard spluttered.
Elizabeth, whose eyes had been alight with merriment at her brother's and her jesting, fell. She knew he was asking a rhetorical question, but she still hesitated. If she could not recognize the woman in the mirror, how could anyone else? Surely Richard had to have noticed the change in her? Or even her mother for that matter, and father, but as it seemed no one but herself and Lucy had noticed the change in her.
Elizabeth almost wanted to scoff at the indecency, her maid, though, she was a human being like everyone else, she was still a maid, and yet she had noticed.
"Elizabeth! Richard! There you are, I was about to send Mr. Wesley to go looking for you," Lady Fitzwilliam laughed as Lord Morton and her father stood. Both bowing as Richard bowed as well and Elizabeth curtsied.
"Good evening, Lady Elizabeth," Lord Morton smiled as she took her seat beside him.
Elizabeth gave a small smile back before answering, "Good evening, Lord Morton."
His bright, blue eyes shown with excitement and happiness, "How are you this eve?"
"Thank you, I am well, and you?"
"Exceedingly so, I have spent the day with my beautiful sister and cousin at the royal menagerie, and now I have the pleasure of ending it with a feast and another beautiful lady."
Elizabeth gave yet another, small smile and fidgeted in her seat. She sent a silent prayer up when the first course arrived, giving her hands and mouth something to do other than fidget and talk.
Elizabeth ate one of the hot hors d'oeuvres chewing slowly as to bide her time.
"Oh, the royal menagerie! I have been dying for Walter to take me, how did you find it?" Lady Fitzwilliam asked.
"Wondrous! The animals were quite exotic, some I had never even heard of. I highly suggest undertaking a visit. You will not regret it," Lord Morton beamed.
"Oh, brother! Perhaps we could take them sometime, I know I would enjoy going again," Lady Morton smiled.
Elizabeth's mother seemed to light up at the prospect of an outing with the Morton's, as did Lord Morton at the prospect of an outing with Elizabeth. "We would be delighted to accompany you the next time you attend."
Lord Morton looked to Elizabeth as the second course was served, "Lady Elizabeth?" He questioned, wanting her answer as well.
Elizabeth took a sip of her soup before answering, thinking of the safest and most vague answer she could. "I would enjoy seeing the royal menagerie, I believe it would provide quite the journal entry," Elizabeth mused.
Lord Morton was about to answer when his cousin exceeded him.
"Lady Elizabeth, if I remember correctly, my cousin offered to bring to life one of your journal entries. Is that still a possibility?" Miss Hopwood asked, sipping her soup, and washing it down with wine. Elizabeth scrunched her nose at the combination, taking a sip of her soup.
Lady Gabriella Morton who had been in conversation with Colonel Fitzwilliam paused to gage Elizabeth's answer. When she did not answer right away, Lady Morton joined the conversation. "Oh, please, do, Lady Elizabeth! I feel as if I have drawn everything there is to draw. I have drawn the ocean front in Italy, I have drawn the French countryside, the London streets, the English Channel, I have drawn my cousin and brother too many times to count, and I have drawn all the food there is to draw. Oh, and, please, do not ask me of self-portraits, I am quite horrible at those," she laughed to herself.
Elizabeth suppressed a laugh at the pouty little girl, who beside her Richard was admiring. She smirked knowingly before deciding to have a bit of fun, "Well, my entries are mostly nature as well, but if you must draw something, perhaps my brother would be up to sitting still."
Lady Morton blushed as did Richard, both looking away from the other. Richard running a hand through his sandy blonde hair, ending on the back of his neck when he looked towards Lady Gabriella. His brown eyes looking hopeful.
Lady Gabriella turned back towards the Colonel, shyly glancing up at him, "I would be honored to draw you, Colonel, if it is, of course, alright with you?"
"And me," Lord Morton interrupted good-naturedly, laughing as he teased his sister. Who in turn blushed a deeper red.
"And you, brother. Colonel?" She questioned with the same hopeful eyes Elizabeth just saw mirrored in her brothers.
"If it is no inconvenience to you or your brother?" Richard said bowing his head towards Lord Morton.
"Of course not! Be my guest, Colonel, I think you will be the honored one, however," Lord Morton smiled, praising his sister.
"Brother!" Lady Gabriella blushed.
"Indeed, I think I will," Richard smiled at her.
Elizabeth smiled at the conversation and shared looks between her brother and Lady Morton; if anyone deserved love more, it was her brother. He had always been second in everything, never standing out much, always having to make his own way in the world. Elizabeth always thought that the 'Fitzwilliam' name was more of a burden for him than anything. The more she thought of it, she came to realize the same applied to her as well.
"Perfect!" Her mother exclaimed, interrupting her musings. "Richard leaves soon as well, now we shall have a picture of him to remember him by."
"As if you do not have enough, Mother. How many do you have in the guest hall?"
"Oh, Richard! You do tease, perhaps I do have one too many," Lady Fitzwilliam relented.
"I say, my dear, you have more of him than you do of me, your own husband," the Earl laughed.
Lady Fitzwilliam smiled at her husband sheepishly, "Well, Walter, he looks so fine in his regimentals."
Richard laughed, as did Lady Morton and Miss Hopwood, "As informing," Richard laughed, "As this conversation is, perhaps you should take it into the drawing room?" He suggested as the dessert course was removed.
"Yes, I agree, my dear, we will meet you in the drawing room," Elizabeth's father smiled before leading the men to his study and Eleanor leading the women to the drawing room.
"Miss Hopwood, do you play?" Lady Fitzwilliam questioned.
"Yes, actually, I do. I was blessed enough to have been taught by the same master as my cousin was."
"Yes, and my master is the master of Miss Darcy when she travels to London," Lady Morton added.
Elizabeth froze at the name, taking deep breaths, unable to control herself she asked, "Do you know Miss Darcy?"
"We have met, yes, Celia and I made her acquaintance last season. Her brother had taken her to the opera, she is not yet out, you see, so we have not had the chance to further the acquaintance."
"Gabriella, I heard her brother was here only a little while ago, however, Miss Darcy was not with him. I thought she had told you she planned on coming with Mr. Darcy the next season. Was she not supposed to come out this year?"
"I thought so, Celia, I will have to write to her and ask. Do you know Miss Darcy, Lady Elizabeth?" Lady Morton asked, turning her attention back to both the Fitzwilliam woman.
"Yes, we are good friends. Though, I have yet to see her since arriving home." Elizabeth replied, trying to keep a calm exterior plastered on her face.
"Perhaps you should write to her in place of me then?" Lady Morton thought aloud.
"Miss Hopwood," Lady Fitzwilliam interjected, noticing the down fall in her daughter's countenance. "Would you play for us?"
Miss Hopwood smiled her bright smile, "I would love to, Lady Fitzwilliam."
Miss Hopwood was playing her second song when the gentlemen walked in. Lord Morton took the seat next to Elizabeth on the divan, Richard next to Lady Gabriella on the divan across from them, and her mother and father in two separate high back chairs.
"Lady Fitzwilliam, if you would do me the honor, I would like to extend an invitation to Morton Manor this Saturday, for my sister to be able to draw the good Colonel here."
Lady Fitzwilliam clasped her hands together in excitement, "We would be delighted, Lord Morton, thank you."
Lord Morton smiled and turned towards Elizabeth, looking into her brown eyes with his joyful blue. Elizabeth almost felt bad that she did not return the feelings he so obviously felt for her.
Almost.
She had been hurt too many times to care anymore.
…..
Richard and his father were sitting in his father's study both nursing a whiskey.
"Richard, there is something we must discuss before you depart." His Father began, looking out the large window, hands clasped behind him.
"I am listening, Father," Richard replied casually, though his inner mind was a contradiction to said casualness.
"I have already brought the issue up with your Mother, she was less than pleased. I thought you would like to know as you have always looked after Elizabeth."
"What's wrong? Is Elizabeth in danger?"
"No, no, nothing like that, I assure you. Can I refill your drink, son?" His Father asked.
Richard confused and more than slightly worried slowly shook his head. He knew whatever his father was about to tell him was substantial. Walter Fitzwilliam was never an overly sentimental man, calling Richard 'son' was the equivalent of 'I love you.'
His father refilled his glass and in turn did the same to his, walking back over to the window.
"Richard, you know my health has never been the best, in fact that was the reason your mother and I wed so hastily and had Thomas so soon afterwards. Well, before you and Elizabeth left, things were not looking good. The doctor and myself, both, did not think I had much longer. You, being the second son and already bearing that burden, I could not bring myself to make you Elizabeth's guardian after I was gone. Your mother, of course, would have some say in Elizabeth's life, but as father I have full control of guardianship over all my children. In the event of my death, I would need another male guardian, not only for lawful reasons but to grant a dying man some comfort."
Richard was confused as to where his father was headed but decided to remain silent and listen before asking questions.
"Now, before you ask 'why not Thomas?' allow me to elaborate. Thomas, though, the first born and heir to the Fitzwilliam title, has never been very bright, and he has his own family to look after. I would not have been put at ease knowing my Elizabeth was in his care. He would not know how to care and provide a living for such a free-spirited character. Elizabeth, she is a special young woman, she has always outwitted almost every one of her counterparts. She is bright, and intelligent, and quick-witted, it would take a very smart man, and not in the sense you think, to make my Elizabeth happy." The Earl of Matlock paused, seemingly lost in thought.
"Perhaps this is a conversation for another time, meet me in my study on the morrow and we shall continue it. Then perhaps, we will only need two drinks to finish instead of starting our third," his Father tried to jest.
Richard, knowing it was pointless to push his father, nodded his head and left the room. This was evidently something of large importance and rather difficult for his father to speak of. He would tell Richard when he was ready, Richard only hoped that meant at their meeting the next day.
….
Elizabeth sat in the library at the desk placed by the window, her journal opened to the next empty page. She was staring out the window at the night sky, looking at the lone carriages passing by, the stars covered by the grey clouds. She briefly closed her eyes to the night air blowing in through the open window. She was deep in thought when a strong gust of wind blew, causing the pages in her journal to turn. The leather cover was about to flip closed when she caught writing on the last page in the moonlight. Brow furrowing, she relit the candle she had burning and pulled the window closed. Opening her journal to the last page to look over it. This was not her handwriting, she had yet to make it to the last page. Bewildered she read the fine, neat, masculine writing.
My dearest, loveliest Elizabeth,
I know this cannot possibly make up for all the letters I did not answer, but it is a start. That mistress of yours was simply jealous of you having been out to sea. I think you would make a sailorman the happiest man in the world were you to marry him. I can see you out there, in the open sea, the salty air blowing through your beautiful, curly hair. Little droplets of ocean water getting stuck in those unruly curls. I miss our time together as well, Elizabeth, more so than you could ever think. Indeed, I had been quite busy November 23rd, 1802. That was the year I had a professor who thought it a good lesson to have class two minutes early every day. A game of sorts he would play, he would see who would eventually catch on. Determining for him who were his most intelligent pupils in his class. It had me quite distraught to show up late three classes in a row.
The only reason you sit by yourself, my sweet Elizabeth, is because you intimidate the other girls. What star would want to sit next to the sun? You were always a fast learner, I look forward to hearing you speak the language of love. Poetry, they say is the food of love. Do you not think? I hope you still do not consider me a brother of sorts, it would cause many problems I am afraid. I am the one who must ask for forgiveness in my impropriety, for I am certainly taking a risk with your reputation in writing to you, and so informally at that. My dear, Lady Elizabeth Fitzwilliam of Matlock.
I confess I know the feeling quite well, my Elizabeth, you were always someone I felt I could share in my woes. It seems familial obligation is something we both suffer from. It breaks my heart to hear my sweet Elizabeth declare she is beginning to lose hope and to know further yet that I was the cause. I ask in the hope you have lost you can find it in your heart to forgive this love sick man.
Only you, my Elizabeth, would yearn for the knowledge of a man's education. Come to think of it, I say you deserve this education more so than half the gentlemen here. I hope it is not below you or too out of character if I were to challenge you in a wooden sword duel? I laugh out right as I write this, the Elizabeth I remember would never back down from a duel, nor a chess match. I look forward to many more after supper treats stolen if you so allow me the opportunity.
The concern, care, and love you express over the loss of my parents brings me much solace. Your words alone bring me comfort after all this time. Your heart is too kind, Elizabeth, too sweet for this cruel world. Humanity does not deserve your kindness and sweet spirit. You do not know the many times our memories we share have brought a smile to my face over the years. Anytime I think of your happy face, your jests, your laugh, your witty remarks, all of it, Elizabeth. As I write this, Elizabeth, I smile.
Only you, my dear Elizabeth, would study lessons not presented to you, in your spare time. I wince to know I have caused you such pain, it breaks my very heart to know you lost hope in not only our friendship but in me as well. Elizabeth, I do not know how to show you, but your friendship, your letters, they have managed to sustain me over the years. Please, please, do not give up on me.
Once we played at love together -
Played it smartly, if you please;
Lightly, as a windblown feather,
Did we stake a heart apiece.
Oh, it was delicious fooling!
In the hottest of the game,
Without thought of future cooling,
All too quickly burned Life's flame.
In this give-and-take of glances,
Kisses sweet as honey dews,
When we played with equal chances,
Did you win, or did I lose?
Elizabeth, my dearest Elizabeth, I will not say it here, I will not write a sentiment that holds so much weight. I will not be a coward and hide behind parchment and ink when I express such a devotion towards you. Wait for me, Elizabeth, and I will repeat those three words over and over to you. I will let you know every waking moment how much I cherish and…
Checkmate, Elizabeth.
Forever, and always was,
Yours, Fitzwilliam D.
Elizabeth was in tears, only she could not discern whether they were from sadness or happiness. Her heart was erratically beating, she was sure it could be heard beating all the way in the hallway. The window she had only just closed now needed opening. Throwing it open, she leaned out of it, letting the cool night air wash over her overly hot face. So many questions were racing through her mind she did not know where to begin. What did this mean? Had Darcy received her letters after all? Furthermore, why had he not responded? Did this mean Darcy had feelings for her? Why had he never said anything before? Had she not presented him with enough opportunities? And why, if he did have any sort of sentimental emotions towards her, did he leave, with no warning? Moreover, what does checkmate mean?
Elizabeth sighed, sitting back down in her seat, rubbing her forehead. It was all too much, too much to think about, too much to take in. Too much on the line she did not want to give into the hope of a life and love with him. Elizabeth thought it best to put it from her mind for the time being and sleep on it. Perhaps this was all some mad dream. Making her way to her chambers, journal and candelabra in hand. In a daze, she opened the door and made her way to her washroom. Ringing the bell for Lucy as she set her journal in her bedside table drawer. Absentmindedly fingering the last page.
"Forgive me, Lucy, save, could you draw me a bath, please? I am feeling a bit tense."
Lucy, whose dress was on backwards due to the late hour, curtsied, "'Course, my lady."
Elizabeth smiled and began undoing her own dress, or the parts she could reach, at least. Once she had reached the point she would need help, she walked towards her vanity to undo her hair. Pulling pins out left and right before she shook out her long, silky, brunette curls. Her lips turning up in a slight smile at the feel of the weight being let down.
She stepped into the tub of warm water and sighed, letting all her worries and stresses melt away with the steam. She sat there, eyes closed and mind racing over each word of the letter. What would Darcy have meant in his endearments if not affection? A friend does not speak to one in such a way, does he? Elizabeth questioned herself. He could not possibly mean he …? And certainly not in a way more than friendship, could he? She was then led to thinking of how they were not really friends either, yet was there something more between them even before she had left for school? Had Darcy harbored feelings for her all this time, much like she had? If this was so, then why had Darcy refrained from telling her? Elizabeth sighed again before thinking, 'had he tried and I had dismissed his perusings?'
Groaning quite unladylike, Elizabeth stepped from the tub knowing only sleep could help evade her from her train of thoughts. Pulling her nightgown over her head she walked to her mahogany four poster bed and plaited her hair, turning to the side to blow out her candle. Praying she would have some answers in the morning when she awoke, though, she highly doubted it.
A/N: Many thanks to my beta, LMFG, again!
Bonjour mes lovelies! Okay so hopefully you enjoyed. Tell me what you all thought, I did not want this chapter to be so dismal like the past eleven chapters. It's about time I had some healing being done. However, healing takes time and with Darcy just leaving it proved to be a bit difficult to have a lighter weight chapter and stick to the storyline. Things from here will only get better, of course you can expect some more bumps in the road but things are looking up. As to Elizabeth's age she was nine going on ten when she left for school. As to the other question about where I am from, I am originally from America but I live in Europe as of right now.
Much Love,
Mrs. Lily Darcy