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Day 366 - 370
Although she did not allow herself to become completely lost after the anniversary of William's death and the aftermath of reading his letter Elizabeth did suffer physical and emotion setbacks after that day. She retired to her bedroom several hours after reading the letter but did not wake until after noon the next day and even then she could not bring herself to rise. Abigail was concerned enough to admit Mrs. Gardiner to her mistress' chamber by nightfall.
"I know yesterday was difficult, Lizzy." Madeline said holding Elizabeth's hand. "Is there nothing I can do for you."
Elizabeth wished she had a task she could set her aunt to, knowing it would give them both some relief. She would be saved from giving voice to her distress and her aunt from the feeling of uselessness.
"If I knew what I needed I would tell you." She said simply, and though this was not entirely true she would not give voice to what she thought would actually help her most because she knew he would be sent for immediately.
Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, as well as Abigail and Mrs. Reynolds took turns reading to her. The Gardiners took their meals with her and eventually she was coaxed to rise, dress and move as far as her sitting room. On the third day she showed William's letter to her aunt. They cried together. That night Elizabeth went to bed before the sun went down.
Day 371
As she stood facing the door to her husband's chamber, the door that had almost never been closed in their four years of marriage, her heart raced, her head pounded and her hands shook. It may have been minutes or hours that she remained there before she heard his voice in her heart. It was time, past time. She had opened every other room, gone through Georgiana's belongings, sorted through papers and letters from his study, this was the last place he remained. That was why it was so hard.
"Would you like me to accompany you?" Her aunt seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.
Without turning Elizabeth nodded and before she could stop herself she reached for the doorknob and turned it. She realized at once that the room had not been entirely neglected. Of course, it had not. The lack of dust, the made bed and the fresh scents all spoke to Mrs. Reynolds care. Elizabeth knew instinctively that the dear woman would not let anyone else in to the room.
It was familiar. So achingly familiar. The wash stand by his dressing room door, their bedside tables which still held the books they had been reading and even his shaving items laid out as if he would come through the door fresh from a ride, eager to prepare for an evening with friends. The whole room spoke of the life they had lived and its end struck her with renewed force. She tried to remember the last moments they spent here together before the fever destroyed the life they had built.
"Where shall we begin?" Her aunt's question pulled her from trying to reconstruct those last moments of normalcy, from the painful regret and fog of grief.
"I think we could ask Thomas be called to see to the wardrobe and we could have Mrs. Reynolds give the room an airing when we have finished. Would you look through the items there?" She asked indicating the small chest of drawers adjacent to the dressing room where she knew William had kept various items including documents and some family heirlooms.
"Perhaps we could send them to Stephen to sort through." It struck her how briefly she was allowed to know the man whose life and love so deeply defined her. Pressing on she assigned herself the chest at the foot of the bed where William kept journals, papers and books that held special value to him.
"Or perhaps you could ask him to return so that he might sort through them here." Her aunt said gently. Madeline Gardiner was not one to push but Elizabeth knew she wanted to be of use to her niece and she obviously understood that there was something not quite right between her and Stephen. Thankfully she also knew her aunt would not press her.
"He had much to occupy him in London and now he must handle several matters at Maplehurst." Was all Elizabeth said.
After an hour Mrs. Reynolds found them and showing not a hint of surprise by word or action set to work beside them when Elizabeth asked her to see to the linens. Elizabeth was able to work fairly easily without tears because most of the items she encountered were unfamiliar to her. She set her husband's journals aside knowing she could not read them at present but hoping very much to one day discover what he had recorded in the years he kept them – mostly his university days and one when his father was ill. Other papers included some documents of his father's – letters and contracts he had written or signed that seemed not to hold legal but sentimental significance. She set those aside to be placed back in the trunk. She would show some of them to Mr. Whitley to be sure they held no practical importance. Finally, she came to a box which contained letters from Georgiana – dozens of them. Despite a fear of being pulled into that despair she avoided so assiduously, Elizabeth found herself anxious to hear her sister's voice once more. Of course she had her own saved correspondence with Georgiana but these letters would have words, thoughts, ideas and events that were unfamiliar to her. It would be as if Georgie was speaking to her again.
"Aunt, would you mind if I retired to the sitting room for a time?" She asked.
Mrs. Reynolds had left half an hour earlier laden with linens and pillows. And Madeline had begun boxing up articles from the chest in cases that had been brought out from the dressing room.
"Not at all." she replied immediately. "I will go and see what your uncle has been doing these past few hours."
"Thank you, I would like to read these." She told her knowing she would want to know what she had found but would never ask. "They appear to be Georgie's letters to William from when she was a little girl until a few years ago."
"I will be below stairs if you need me." Her aunt said simply squeezing her arm and leaving her alone.
Elizabeth went in to her sitting room rang for Abigail and asked that lunch to be sent up. An hour later her cheeks were stained with tears, but she was happy. The letters began when Georgie was but ten years old and missing her brother who was at Oxford. They were full of love, showed signs of petulance at times and painted a picture of life at Pemberley under the previous Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth was content to know Georgie had been loved so well by both her father and her brother. The first bundle ended when Georgie turned thirteen and the last letter was full of a young girl's advice on how to please the ladies. Elizabeth suspected she was anxious for her brother to bring home a wife and did not at all trust him to know how to do it. She mused that the young girl had not been wrong about her brother needing advice in that area.
When she reached for the next letter she found it written in a very different hand. She did not realize this stack, which contained at least a dozen more letters were not from Georgiana at all until she read the first one.
Darcy,
I want to be angry at you for your advice as I must confess I am finding a season, or even part of one, in London more exhausting than the battlefields of Spain.
In an effort to put your advice in to practice, I indicated to my ever-eager father that I will make myself available as he wishes to meet the heiresses he has been urging on me these many years. He has taken to the task with alacrity. My Aunt Eugenia has been drafted to screen the candidates and thus far I have been to three balls, two soirees and one tea. At these six events I have been introduced to twelve young ladies whose collective fortunes equal no less than two-hundred-fifty-thousand pounds. Some of them were actually quite pretty, two or three were fairly witty and one I might even call intelligent. They are harmless enough girls, apparently willing to do as bidden by their families as they seemed eager to impress me - a mere second son with no fashion, form or fortune to speak of. But our family is one many wish to be allied with I suppose and so I am told I may choose from among them.
But how am I to choose from among these dozen when my heart has already chosen? I wish you had not decided to forgo the remainder of the season here in Town, not that I can blame you. But I do desire your counsel. I am trying, cousin. I agree that to truly know whether this is love or affection I must not only stay away but also engage in this seemingly farcical matchmaking circus. I had thought my mother would be more eager to parade me before the daughters of her many friends, but she has left it all to father. I think she sees my heart is not in it and may even suspect the cause. You know she has always been too perceptive for my own good. I fear she will wheedle the truth from me soon enough if my commander does not shortly require my presence far from London. But that is unlikely as father has exerted his considerable influence to ensure that I am indispensable to a major general who is stationed at the war office. It looks as though my sentence of balls and meaningless small talk will be of some duration.
I know your advice was sound, but I cannot help but wonder what might be my present circumstances had I followed my heart. I do thank you for always listening to me and taking time to give advice particularly as you seemed so out of spirits. I will not press you again to confide your troubles in me. I will only say once more that I am, as ever, your constant friend.
All my best to our dear Georgiana. Tell her please that her letters are so dear to me. Better yet I will tell her myself as I am quite a letter in her debt. I will write to her directly.
Yours,
Stephen
The letter was not dated, clearly he was not as fastidious a letter writer as William. Elizabeth could not remember hearing about Stephen spending a season in London being paraded before debutants, something neither he nor William were likely to ever enjoy, so she assumed these events had transpired well before they had met at Rosings. Perhaps when he was a younger, more biddable gentleman. She did feel slightly guilty for reading the letter, but also confused and very curious. She felt that she had intruded on a private matter between her husband and his cousin. But he was her husband now – a fact she kept forgetting - and she wanted to know more about who he was before she knew him. Further, she was curious, as always, about this woman who had captured his heart so long ago. This was the first she had heard of her in Stephen's own words, however briefly she was mentioned. Although tempted, Elizabeth felt she could not read any of the other dozen or so letters in the pile that she now recognized as all containing Stephen's handwriting as they would likely continue this conversation and it would be an invasion of his privacy for her to learn about it that way. There was another bundle with a letter from Stephen on top and she imagined this was likely another group of his letters. This top letter was dated and it seemed to be from immediately before Stephen left for the continent shortly after the she and Darcy were married. Not certain if she should read any of these as she sat by the window and ate her lunch she thought on the one she had read.
Who was this woman Stephen referred to? For the first time since the night of their kiss Elizabeth thought of Stephen and herself. Of his feelings for her which in truth she had very little understanding of and hers for him which she may have understood even less. She remembered the first weeks of their acquaintance and her nascent interest in him. She pushed aside the guilt and allowed herself to remember.
"Miss Bennet." Colonel Fitzwilliam greeted her with his customary gallant bow. Elizabeth smiled as this had become something of a joke between them with her teasing him about his excessive displays of chivalry and him making them more and more ridiculous to make her laugh. "I apologize if I am disturbing your solitude. I was on my way to call on the parsonage, but when I saw you through the trees I changed direction."
"I do not regret your decision at all." She assured him and they resumed walking.
"I am glad to hear it. I should lament very much if the joy I found in your company placed a burden on you. Indeed, I think I would be forced to fling myself in Lady Catherine's fine trout stream."
"Oh the horrors." Elizabeth laughed, enjoying the banter. Charlotte enjoyed teasing her about the Colonel's affection for her and her own pleasure in his company. Elizabeth wasn't certain how much credence to give her friend's opinions when Charlotte still insisted Mr. Darcy harbored some secret attachment to her. Elizabeth knew that when that gentleman looked at her it was only to criticize. Colonel Fitzwilliam on the other hand was very open about the enjoyment he found in her company. Indeed, he shared quite frequently his favorable opinions of her wit, her beauty and even her very mediocre playing. His compliments were sometimes given in the silly manner they had developed to tease one another, but somehow Elizabeth still sensed a sincerity in them.
"Although I believe that would be the most activity the trout stream has seen since my Uncle's passing more than two decades ago."
"You and Mr. Darcy do not enjoy the sport when you visit?" She asked taking the arm her offered as he helped her over a log.
"If only." He sighed. "It would alleviate the tedium of the biannual pilgrimage, but of course her Ladyship insists on having us practically underfoot for almost every moment we are not conducting estate business."
"Well I do understand how the company of ladies and all our tedious conversation cannot compare to joys of standing in a stream for hours hoping to end the life of some poor helpless fish." She replied with more annoyance than she intended.
"Elizabeth, Miss Bennet" Colonel Fitzwilliam quickly corrected himself. He turned toward her dislodging her arm and they stood, looking at one another. "I apologize for my ill-chosen words. I was of course referring to previous visits and not this one. I thought you knew . . . I assumed I had been all too clear these past weeks how not tedious I found your company."
This brief speech was accompanied by a shy smile that was quite unlike others the Colonel had bestowed upon her. It was so much more serious than was his custom Elizabeth felt herself thrown into some confusion. Was he trying to convey to her that he had serious intentions? Fortunately, the Colonel's flawless instincts seemed to sense her confusion as in the next moment he was waxing poetic about the many boring hours he had spent in her Ladyship's parlor over the years. His amusing anecdotes soon had her forgetting the momentary awkwardness.
When they arrived at the parsonage Maria greeted the Colonel with her usual eagerness and Charlotte prevailed upon him to join them for tea. As Mr. Collins was working on his sermon she saw no need to disturb him and the conversation remained intelligent and pleasant.
As Elizabeth observed him speaking with the other ladies she considered what it would mean if he were to have intentions toward her. His company was pleasing and although what she felt for him could not be described as love she certainly felt something like affection and although he was not so handsome as Wickham there was something about his physical appearance that she found very pleasing. The mystery of her regard for the Colonel was not solved that day as shortly after his visit ended Mr. Collins demanded the ladies' attention. And although listening to her cousin sermonize did not require all of her focus it likewise did not allow the peace and quiet which an examination of her intimate feelings would have required.
The next day any feelings Elizabeth may have had or developed in the future were rendered irrelevant. She took her usual walk bringing with her some of Jane's letters which indicated her sister had not yet recovered her spirits after Mr. Bingley's defection. As she came to a bend in the road she was met by Colonel Fitzwilliam.
"I did not know before you ever walked this way." She said as it was his cousin who she had met on this particular path more times than she cared to recount.
"I have been taking a tour of the park as I generally do every year, and intend to close it with a call at the parsonage. Are you going much further?"
Trying to put Jane's melancholy out of her mind, Elizabeth took the Colonel's proffered arm and answered with a smile, "No I should have turned in a moment."
Now that they were strolling together in silence Elizabeth realized she was quite at a loss as to the Colonel's feelings and intentions. He was such a mixture of teasing and sincerity she realized she may have imagined the moment yesterday where she perceived he was trying to communicate that he felt for her something beyond their burgeoning friendship. Unwilling to probe a topic where she was not yet certain of her own desire Elizabeth chose an exceptionally safe topic that would allow them to avoid anything like yesterday's conversation.
"Do you certainly leave Kent on Saturday?"
"Yes – if Darcy does not put it off again. But I am at his disposal. He arranges the business just as he pleases."
Although spoken with his usual easy smile Elizabeth sensed something underneath the Colonel's simple remark about his cousin. She sought to bring further levity to the discussion with her next remark.
"And if not able to please himself in the arrangement, he has at least pleasure in the great power of choice. I do not know anybody who seems more to enjoy the power of doing what he likes than Mr. Darcy."
The Colonel looked at her for a long moment before answering, gone was his usual light tone.
"He likes to have his own way very well, "replied Colonel Fitzwilliam. "But so we all do. It is only that he has better means of having it than many others, because he is rich, and many others are poor. I speak feelingly. A younger son you know, must be inured to self-denial and dependence."
Clearly her effort at moving the conversation to more lighthearted grounds was not working. The Colonel seemed as serious and put out as she had ever seen him. Elizabeth tried once again to move them to their more familiar cheerful type conversation.
"In my opinion, the younger son of an earl can know very little of either. Now, seriously, what have you ever known of self-denial and dependence? When have you been prevented by want of money from going wherever you chose, or procuring anything you had a fancy for?"
He looked at her for a long moment before answering and when he did she had the distinct impression he had changed his mind about what he was going to say just before he began to speak.
"These are home questions – and perhaps I cannot say that I have experienced many hardships of that nature. But in matters of greater weight, I may suffer from the want of money." Then after a deep breath he added. "Younger sons may not marry where they like."
"Unless where they like women of fortune, which I think they very often do." Elizabeth responded with a forced smile. This then was her answer. He recognized he might have raised her hopes with his careless words yesterday and meant to put her on her guard with this conversation today. His next words confirmed this suspicion.
"Our habits of expense make us too dependent, and there are not many in my rank of life who can afford to marry without some attention to money."
As he spoke the Colonel had turned away from Elizabeth and she could not read his expression. His tone was even and Elizabeth heard, or at least hoped she heard some regret in it. Like with Wickham and Mary King she found she could not truly blame the Colonel for being unable to consider her as a potential match even if his inclination would have been in her favor. It was not his fault that Fortune favored men like Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley leaving him and Mr. Wickham to potentially choose between love and security. Elizabeth knew that she herself had already had to make that choice and she chose love or rather she chose against security. Perhaps that was one advantage to being a female. If she remained dependent on her family for the remainder of her life society would accept that. Not so with the gentlemen. Ironically they would need to seek "independence" in the form of a wealthy woman.
Recovering herself from these rather serious and profound ideas Elizabeth responded to the Colonel's last complaint in a lively tone.
"And pray, what is the usual price of an earl's younger son? Unless the elder brother is very sickly I suppose you would not ask above fifty thousand pounds."
He turned to her with a grateful smile and answered "Do you not think with my height, lack of weak chin and bright red uniform I could command so much?"
"But of course, Colonel." She responded lightly trying not to sound as affected as she felt. It was not so much that she was disappointed, although part of her was, it was that she wanted to be sure he did not perceive any alteration in her as a result of this conversation. To that end she soon turned the conversation back to Mr. Darcy so that they each had something and someone else to focus on.
"Lady Fitzwilliam." Elizabeth was startled from her thoughts by Mrs. Reynolds. "I apologize, Mistress I did not mean to startle you."
Elizabeth could not deny that the housekeeper had in fact startled her. Looking at the fading light outside her bedroom window she wondered just how long she had sat there pondering what she had found in the letter and what she might find were she to read more.
"It is no matter, Mrs. Reynolds. I have tarried here long enough." Elizabeth smiled and rose from her chair.
"I see your lunch is untouched." The housekeeper said gently but with the assurance that her hint would be taken. "I have removed all of the items I felt comfortable taking out of the room and taken the items your Aunt set aside for you to look over. They will be in several trunks in the attic. When you are ready to sort through them simply let me know and I will have them fetched."
"Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds." Elizabeth said with a smile. "I will eat my meal. I promise."
"Mr. Miles, the Alans and the Prescotts are expected for dinner." Mrs. Reynolds reminded Elizabeth as she moved to leave.
"Yes, thank you. I will eat and then ring for Abigail." She did as she promised and then rested before she began her preparations for the evening.
The Gardiners met Elizabeth at the top of the stairs.
"Elizabeth, you look lovely." Her uncle said, folding her into a gentle embrace. She wore a gown of light green. It was one of several she had ordered from a dressmaker in Lambton upon their return to Pemberley last fall. This was the first time since she emerged from her sick bed that she wore a gown that was not black or some dark shade of another color. Even her wedding dress had been deep blue. She had not looked at herself in the mirror, but had noted Abigail's wide smile of approval as she fixed her hair.
"Thank you, uncle." Elizabeth responded taking a moment to enjoy the forgotten, but still familiar warmth of her uncle's arms.
"I must say that color becomes you." Madeline told her as they descended the stairs.
Elizabeth and her Aunt and Uncle were assembled in the parlor when their guests were announced. The Gardiners had met them all on previous visits so no introductions were necessary. The Prescotts and the Alans were older couples who had been friends of the Darcy family when Anne and George Darcy were alive. They had continued to be on friendly terms with Elizabeth and William despite the age difference.
The families had dined together only once since her marriage to Stephen and it seemed the ladies were eager for some private conversation as they quickly descended on Elizabeth soon as they separated from the gentlemen after dinner.
"My dear, you are looking a little pale and tired this evening." Mrs. Prescott declared with a pat on her shoulder. The kindly lady did not look at all put out by this accurate description of Elizabeth's countenance.
"Oh Winefred, you are too forward. We must allow her to keep her secrets." Mrs. Alan admonished with a nod to Elizabeth. Mrs. Alan and Mrs. Prescott had been best friends for several decades and they reminded Elizabeth greatly of herself and Jane with Mrs. Alan being the more gentle one with the delicate sense of honor. So if Mrs. Prescott was in fact pressing her for something Mrs. Alan was taking it upon herself to protect Elizabeth from revealing some secret they both felt she kept. The trouble was Elizabeth did not know what secret this was.
"I am afraid I do not know what you mean." She told her friends frankly, hoping for equal frankness in return.
"Why the happy reason for your exhaustion and pallor, dear girl." Mrs. Prescott pressed and now both ladies looked at her in eager anticipation, but for the life of her she could not determine what it was they wanted hear.
"I am afraid there is no happy . . ."it was then that she noticed both women looking at her hands which she held in her lap. Was it her wedding band from Stephen, did they want to speak of the ceremony? No, it was not her hands they were looking at so intently but her waist. They thought she was expecting. This idea brought a sharp stab of longing to her heart. Longing for the child she would never have with William and far more surprisingly longing for the life she would never have with Stephen. Rather than explicitly correct them, words she could not bring herself to say she explained the real source of the symptoms they had mistakenly attributed to a much more joyful cause. "I am simply tired due to my inability to sleep more than a few hours at a time for the past week or so."
Mrs. Alan looked truly stricken, but Mrs. Gardiner quickly took control of the conversation and soon the ladies were discussing mutual acquaintances in the neighborhood and Elizabeth and the Gardiners plans to travel to London. The former's plans were not yet fixed but her relatives would be returning home within the week.
"Will you take the opportunity to visit your modiste?" Mrs. Prescott was asking when the gentlemen rejoined them.
"I hope you will take the opportunity to do a little shopping when you do finally return to town." Madeline said coming to her side. "You should have new gowns made as I have no doubt your friends will be clamoring to host balls in your honor to celebrate your marriage now that you are out of mourning."
"Perhaps I will." Elizabeth said. Shopping had never been a favorite pastime of hers, but she understood the gentle push from her Aunt. Every dress in her wardrobe was reminder of a dinner, a ball, a visit, a conversation. Even just going through Georgiana's wardrobe, looking at her gowns had been painful. That in one sitting. Imagining every time she put on a gown reliving the last time she wore it with William or Georgiana was not a prospect she welcomed. Her current gown had never been worn before and it was only one of two such dresses she owned. Perhaps a new wardrobe was in order. The ladies had moved on in their discussion. She struggled to catch up.
"Oh yes and you must write directly if you see General Wellington. I hear he has returned to London." Mrs. Prescott demanded. "He is so dashing. I saw him once in Bath at the Pump Room years ago and I swear I almost swooned." Everyone laughed at her exaggeration.
Elizabeth thought of Stephen, the only soldier she knew well. Mr. Wickham hardly qualified.
"I will certainly let you know, but while I have never been particularly partial to men in uniform I must say Sir Stephen is certainly the most dashing officer I myself have ever encountered." Elizabeth had not meant to say that. Had not even known she thought it, but once it was out she realized it was true.
The evening ended early as was often the case when your guests were looking back at seventy. Elizabeth and the Gardiners enjoyed some conversation before separating for bed. Elizabeth was thankful as it kept her mind off of both the step she had taken in leaving her widow's garb behind and the abandoned talk of children.
Without really making a decision to do so Elizabeth found herself in her sitting room, ready for bed holding the box of Stephen's letters. She still felt it was an invasion of his privacy to read them. But somehow she could not bring herself to simply remove the temptation by forwarding the letters to Stephen at Maplehurst. In the end, she determined to write him to tell him of their existence as well as her progress in going through Williams things. He might be interested to know about it and he might be interested not only in the letters but some other of William's things.
Elizabeth sighed as she thought of the comradery between William and Stephen. William was never so easy with anyone as he was with his cousin. Even Bingley. Suddenly she wished very much for Stephen's end of this correspondence. She imagined she would learn a great deal about her husband from his letters to Stephen and she wondered if William was as frank with Stephen as Stephen clearly had been with him.