Hello again my friends! As always, many, many thanks for the favorites and follows that have come in since the last update - it's really encouraging to see so many interested in this story. And a special shout-out goes to those of you who took the time to leave me a few words (or many!) telling me your thoughts on what's going on.
I know I'm late posting this update - I usually post on Monday and Thursday, but I missed the latter post last week. My apologies! I hope you'll still enjoy this. We are getting ever-closer to the inevitable Elizabeth/Darcy reunion. ~ CC
In the weeks that followed the October assembly, a number of things became abundantly clear to Elizabeth.
One was that Bingley's attentions to her cousin Jane were marked—no one who chanced to see them together in company could be in doubt that he preferred her over any other girl he'd met. Not that he was ever impolite to anyone, for he was far too amiable to give such offense. It was, however, very soon clear to all of Meryton whom he liked best of the neighborhood daughters.
Jane, on the other hand… Her modesty, while it did her much credit, might well lead to ruin, if Charlotte was to be believed. It was at a dinner party held by Sir William at Lucas Lodge that she mentioned to Elizabeth her belief that Jane might wish to show a little more emotion than she felt if she hoped to secure Mr. Bingley's affections. All the young lady's intimate acquaintance might be certain of her regard for him, said she, but he would not be if she did not more openly display it.
"If Mr. Bingley is incapable of perceiving the truth of my cousin's regard through her shyness, then he is a fool," Elizabeth had replied. "Besides, do not young men prefer modest young women for their brides?"
"Were you a modest young bride for Mr. Woods?" Charlotte asked her.
"I was a young and foolish bride, Charlotte. Very young, and very foolish."
Though she did not believe that Jane should show more than she felt, when she might not be certain of Mr. Bingley's character, upon further inquiry of Jane, Elizabeth learned that she felt herself "very much in danger" of being in love.
"But how do I know he feels the same, Lizzy?" Jane asked. "Maybe he does prefer my company over others, but that does not signify he has any intentions of establishing a deeper attachment."
"Then perhaps you ought to do as Charlotte suggests, dearest," replied Elizabeth. "Make it clear to Mr. Bingley that you like him very much indeed, in what ways you can without being too forward."
In the midst of encouraging Jane, Elizabeth grew absolutely certain that she needed to avoid Colonel Fitzwilliam at all costs. It was no easy task when they shared company, either when invited to Netherfield for a dinner or when that party was invited to Longbourn for the same. She had been unable to avoid him at Sir William's party, and again at a dinner hosted by her aunt and uncle Phillips. When forced to endure the discomfort of being so near a relative of him, Elizabeth made a concentrated effort to keep any conversation away from herself, and she refrained entirely from making any further inquiries as to his family. Though she hardly thought it possible they would any of them be curious about her after all this time, given she and Ned had been completely ignored, she would not take the chance of Colonel Fitzwilliam accidentally carrying back any information regarding herself or her son.
At the start of the second full week of November, there was forced upon her an amendment to her plan to avoid direct interaction with the Netherfield party. A note addressed to Jane, which proved to be written by Miss Bingley, came with an invitation to spend the day with her and Mrs. Hurst. When it was revealed that the gentlemen of Netherfield were to dine with Colonel Forster, Mrs. Bennet denied Jane the use of the carriage to go; a ride on horseback would do very well. Despair and embarrassment flushed her eldest daughter's countenance, for the cloudy sky outside promised rain.
When it came time for Jane to depart, Elizabeth waited until her aunt had gone back into the house, full of glee at her devious plot to ensure Jane would be forced to spend the night at Netherfield, before running to catch her up at the gate.
"Jane wait!" she called out.
Her cousin pulled the reins of her horse. "What is it, Lizzy?"
"Don't go to Netherfield. It is for sure going to rain any moment and you will be wet through,"
Jane snorted. "I believe that is my mother's intention," she said.
"My dear aunt, while hopeful of her scheme securing you a husband, has neglected to recall how dreadfully ill you become when exposed to such conditions as you are sure to meet over the three miles between here and Netherfield," Elizabeth countered.
A sigh escaped her cousin, who then said, "What would you have me do? I cannot go against my mother, Lizzy."
Elizabeth reached up and gripped Jane's gloved hand. "And you are a good, dutiful daughter to believe so," said she. "But while you may feel yourself incapable of defying your mother's wishes, I—as her niece and not her child—have not the same scruples. Allow me to go in your stead. I will deliver the message that you were unable to attend Miss Bingley and her sister due to the weather and your honor will be satisfied—and your health preserved."
Jane glanced over her shoulder toward the house. "Mamma will be seriously displeased if I do not go."
"She will be angrier with me for talking you out of it than she'll be angry with you for staying home. Please, Jane. I implore you not to allow your mother's machinations to lead you to illness."
"And do you not risk becoming ill, Lizzy? The rain will soak you as much as it would me."
"It will indeed, but you know my constitution is rather stronger than yours. When have you ever known me to know a moment's indisposition?" Elizabeth challenged with a grin.
Jane pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. "I must admit," she said slowly, "that while I would very much enjoy becoming further acquainted with Mr. Bingley's sisters, I should not at all like it if I became ill in the effort."
Elizabeth kept quiet her belief that Jane could rather do without such acquaintances as Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. The sisters were elitist snobs who, while fashionable and outwardly polite and amiable, nevertheless made it clear they thought themselves above their company wherever they went. Ironic, she mused, considering the Bingley fortune had been acquired through trade.
"Take the back servants' stair," said Elizabeth with relief when Jane abruptly dismounted her horse. "Go to my room and stay with Ned. Aunt Bennet will not realize I have taken your place for at least an hour, if not longer."
"Thank you for risking your health in my place, Lizzy," Jane said as Elizabeth was hauling herself up into the saddle. "Please, do give my sincerest regrets to Miss Bingley and her sister."
"I will," Elizabeth said. "Now go on, before one of your youngest sisters happens to see you; Mary, I am sure, will keep our secret."
Jane nodded and jogged away toward the back of Longbourn. Elizabeth watched her go for a moment, then urged the horse into a canter. Rain began to fall not ten minutes after she passed through the gate—lightly at first, before soon coming in veritable sheets. She could hardly see five feet ahead, and had passed the drive at Netherfield before realizing she'd even reached it.
A groom came out of a small shelter by the drive to take her horse; Elizabeth thanked him before she hurried up the steps, tidying her hair and dress as well as she was able while water continued to drip from her eyelashes down her cheeks. She was quickly admitted after her knock and directed to the hall fireplace by the kindly butler, who sent a footman for Mr. Bingley.
"I thought Mr. Bingley was out for the evening?" she said when the boy had gone away.
"That was his intention, madam," said the butler.
To her surprise, not only did the young footman return with Mr. Bingley, but Colonel Fitzwilliam also.
"My dear Mrs. Woods, whatever possessed you to ride out in such ghastly weather?" Mr. Bingley cried at the sight of her. "You'll catch your death, madam!"
"I assure you, Mr. Bingley, I will not—though my cousin Jane might well have had she come as intended," Elizabeth replied as she turned her back to the fire. "Your sister, Miss Bingley, sent a note kindly inviting Jane to attend her and Mrs. Hurst while you and your gentleman companions dined with Colonel Forster and his officers. Being sure of such weather as now offends the façade of this fine house, I convinced Jane to allow me to ride over in her stead, that she would avoid the inevitable cold she would catch."
"Ride over?" said Colonel Fitzwilliam with a frown. "You mean you came on horseback? Has not your family a carriage?"
"My uncle does have a carriage, Colonel, but it was my aunt who insisted Jane make the journey on horseback, with the understanding that the weather would prevent her returning any earlier than tomorrow."
The two men shared a knowing glance, each one smiling; it relieved Elizabeth that while they understood Mrs. Bennet's intentions, they did not seem offended by them.
"As it is," she went on, "fearing, as I said, that being caught in the rain would lead to illness for my cousin, as so often has happened in the past, I elected to come in her stead to offer her sincerest regrets to Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst."
"You are to be commended, Mrs. Woods, for being so diligent in your cousin's care," said Mr. Bingley. "I should be deeply grieved to have returned and found her ill."
"May I inquire as to why you have not yet gone to your own engagement sir?"
"The very weather which prevented J—Miss Bennet from going out, I'm afraid," he replied. "Well, actually one of the carriage horses somehow lost a shoe, and we had to send for a farrier. By the time he finished re-shoeing the horse, the clouds burst. We were hoping to see it ease before heading into town."
Elizabeth grinned when he came short of addressing her cousin by her Christian name—Bingley definitely liked Jane very much.
Drawing a breath, she said, "Well, gentlemen, as I have delivered my cousin's regret, though not to Miss Bingley directly, I do hope you will relay her sentiments, and Jane's desire of attending them as soon as the weather permits. I must be getting back to Longbourn now."
"Mrs. Woods, you cannot be serious!" said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "Surely you do not intend to go back out into this wretchedness?"
"Why should I not? I came to deliver a message, Colonel. It is delivered."
"Mrs. Woods," said Bingley in a gentler tone. "Pray be reasonable, madam. While you may believe yourself unlikely to become ill, I cannot abide your going back out in such conditions. As a gentleman, I simply cannot agree to a lady risking herself in the manner you intend."
He stepped toward her and placed a hand lightly upon her shoulder. "Please, Mrs. Woods. You are more than welcome to wait out the storm here with us."
Elizabeth glanced at Colonel Fitzwilliam, who openly returned her gaze. She realized, upon studying his countenance, that he was aware she had been trying to avoid him. No doubt he would contrive to get her alone to ask her about it, for he was the curious sort. And while she did, indeed, desire to avoid an uncomfortable conversation with the man, she had a much greater reason for appearing unreasonable:
Ned. Her little boy would worry when she did not return home.
Settling a smile upon her lips, Elizabeth said, "I am very much obliged for your solicitation of my welfare, Mr. Bingley, but I really cannot stay. I have a child at home who has not been separated from his mother for more than a few hours in his life. And while my aunt and my cousins are more than capable of tending to him, I would not have my son be frightened for me."
Both men blinked as though they'd been struck. "A son, Mrs. Woods?" said Bingley.
"You've a son at home?" echoed Fitzwilliam.
She chuckled. "I've just said so, haven't I?"
The two looked at one another. "How can we have been resident here for so long and not known this?" Bingley wondered.
"Such an insignificant detail escaping your notice is hardly worth fretting over," said Elizabeth then. "You cannot expect to know every aspect of the lives of all your minor acquaintances."
Bingley drew a breath. "If you mean to insist upon returning home, please allow me to make what efforts I can to ensure your journey is more comfortable," he said. "Let me call for my carriage."
"Please, Mr. Bingley, do not trouble yourself," she replied.
"It's no trouble at all," said Fitzwilliam firmly. "Charles, why don't you go and arrange to have the carriage brought around? I'll keep Mrs. Woods company until it can be made ready."
"Capital idea," said Bingley, who moved to the bell-pull to ring for a servant. A minute or so later, the butler appeared again, and Bingley gave the man his instructions.
"I'll go now and deliver Miss Bennet's regrets to my sisters," he said, and departed the hall.
Elizabeth turned again to face the fire, holding her hands toward it to warm them. She sensed the colonel drawing near and stiffened reflexively.
"May I inquire, Mrs. Woods," said he, "as to why you seen so very intent on avoiding my company?"
"Do not flatter yourself, Colonel," she retorted nonchalantly. "I wish to avoid every man's company where I am able."
"And why is that? Because some foolish boy answered the call of his king and left you a widow mere weeks or months—however long it was—after he married you and beget a child?"
"Not that it is any of your concern, sir, but yes," Elizabeth said. "He abandoned me almost as soon as we were married without a second's thought. I wrote to him of our child time and again, and received no answer."
Interesting, she mused silently, how much of the truth can actually be revealed without spoiling the lie.
"If he were already deceased, you can hardly blame him for not replying," Fitzwilliam pointed out.
He might as well be dead, came the bitter refrain of old to her mind, before Elizabeth calmly replied, "Perhaps not. However, bitterness and regret do not always give way to reason, and my decision to refrain from entertaining the company of any gentleman is mine to make for as long as I should wish to make it."
She looked to him then with an arched eyebrow. "You need not concern yourself, Colonel Fitzwilliam, that this fortuneless widowed mother will seek to trap you in marriage. I haven't the slightest intention of ever marrying again."
He seemed quite ready to argue the point, but Bingley's timely return prevented any remark he would have made. Elizabeth was relieved to know that she would soon be able to take leave of him, and was therefore rather annoyed when he insisted on accompanying her home.
"The weather is wretched and the roads likely disastrous," said he when she protested. "If you continue to insist on returning to Longbourn, you leave no alternative but for Bingley or myself to accompany you, that we are assured of your arriving there safely."
"Fitzwilliam is right, Mrs. Woods," agreed Bingley. "I'd feel much better about your going at all if one of us attends you."
Elizabeth suppressed a sigh of aggravation. "Very well, if you insist, sir."
Blankets were provided for her to wrap around her shoulders as well as her legs once the carriage was at the door. Elizabeth was grateful, for though she felt certain she would not catch a cold, she had begun to feel a chill from standing in her rain-soaked garments for so long. Fitzwilliam handed her in before climbing in and settling on the rear-facing seat.
A tense silence permeated the air in the carriage as it slowly trundled along, until broken by Elizabeth's softly spoken, "I am truly sorry to have put Mr. Bingley and his staff to so much trouble. I just… I could not bear the thought of being away from my son for even a night."
"It is understandable, Mrs. Woods," Fitzwilliam replied. "You have raised him almost on your own the whole of his life."
Elizabeth smiled a little. "I have. His father is missing out on the greatest gift God has ever given me."
Thinking that she had perhaps said too much, Elizabeth turned her gaze to the rain-splattered window, and was thankful that the colonel did not seem inclined to press any further. It took probably twice as long to reach Longbourn than good weather would have permitted, but Elizabeth was greatly relieved to see the columns around the front door come into sight at last.
Hill was quick to open the door as soon as Colonel Fitzwilliam had stepped out of the carriage and opened the umbrella Bingley had supplied. After helping Elizabeth to alight, they quickly dashed under the portico.
Her Aunt Bennet bustled into the entry hall at the same moment she was stepping through the door. "Elizabeth Gardiner Woods, how dare you ruin Jane's—oh! Colonel Fitzwilliam, how do you do, sir?"
"Gardiner?" said Fitzwilliam, who now looked at Elizabeth with renewed earnestness.
"Aunt," said she, forestalling any further questions. "I have ruined nothing for Jane by riding to Netherfield in her place. You know very well that had she been caught in the rain she'd have got herself a terrible cold."
"For which she would have been taken care of very well indeed at Netherfield, young lady," Mrs. Bennet snapped. Her expression immediately changed again as she looked to the colonel. "Sir, you are too kind to have escorted my niece home in such dreadful weather as this."
"It was my pleasure, ma'am," Fitzwilliam replied with a genial bow of his head.
Mrs. Bennet's addressing her by her full name had alarmed Elizabeth, though the colonel's attention had been easily deflected. Dread fell like a heavy stone into her stomach when Ned suddenly came barreling out into the hall from the drawing room, waving a piece of paper; he was quickly followed by Mary.
"Mamma, Mamma!" the boy cried. "See what I draw you!"
An instinct to protect her son had her tossing aside the blanket around her shoulders and scooping him up as he reached her, skillfully turning so that he faced away from her escort.
"A very fine piece of artwork indeed, Neddy," Elizabeth said as she took the nonsensical swirls of color in hand. "Let us go up to our room, shall we? Mamma must put on dry clothes so she does not catch cold."
She started for the stairs immediately, but was stopped by the sharp tone of her aunt's voice as she called out her name.
"Elizabeth! How could you be so rude, girl? I know my brother and sister Gardiner raised you better than that!" cried Mrs. Bennet. "You must thank Colonel Fitzwilliam properly for seeing you home!"
"It is quite all right, Mrs. Bennet," said Fitzwilliam easily. "Mrs. Woods has already offered her gratitude. I would, however, be delighted to be introduced to the young master, if I may?"
She could not refuse him without an abominable breach of decorum—or a fight with her aunt. Wishing very much that she had elected to remain at Netherfield after all, that she could have ridden Jane's horse back to Longbourn and avoided such a scene as was about to occur, Elizabeth slowly turned around.
That Colonel Fitzwilliam's eyes widened upon his first good look at the boy in her arms was not missed—it was a certainty that he had recognized the features which, to those who knew him, undeniably marked Ned as Fitzwilliam Darcy's son:
Save for his eyes, which he had inherited from her, he looked just like his father.
Swallowing past the lump of dread which had risen from her stomach to her throat, Elizabeth found her voice and said, "Colonel Fitzwilliam, this is my son, Mr. Edward Woods; he is called Ned. Ned, this gentleman is Colonel Fitzwilliam. He is…a friend."
Fitzwilliam bowed from the waist, and Ned tried to return it, the effort forcing Elizabeth to tighten her grip on him lest he fall.
"How do you do, young sir?" said the colonel.
"I well, thank you," Ned replied. "How you do?"
Fitzwilliam smiled. "I am quite well, thank you. Is is a very great pleasure to meet you."
I'll bet it is, Elizabeth thought.
Ned took the picture from her hand and held it out for Fitzwilliam to see. "I draw pitchure for Mamma."
"Aren't you quite the little artist?" said Fitzwilliam as he looked over the crayon-applied swirls and squares. "Very well done, sir."
"Thank you, Colonel," said Elizabeth pointedly. "You may assure Mr. Bingley that I am safe and sound."
"I will tell him," Fitzwilliam replied with a pointed gaze.
Elizabeth was not remiss to the double meaning of his words. Forcing a smile, she said, "I expect as much, though I might remind you he already knows. Good day, Colonel Fitzwilliam."
Resolutely, she turned her back on him and carried her son up the stairs. After settling Ned at his own little table to play with the toys scattered across it, Elizabeth hurried to peel off her wet clothing and get into dry ones. Once she had donned dry stockings, a woolen night dress, and a flannel dressing gown, she curled up in an armchair by the fire, staring into the flames as her son entertained himself.
It won't be long now, she mused, stifling a sniffle. It won't be long now until the whole world falls apart all over again.
Head on over to the next chapter and Darcy's return to the story!