Lambton was a small village nestled in the Derbyshire countryside, officially it was built on Darcy land, but the settlement dated back further than that family's claim on it. There was an attractive row of shops based around a rather pretty medieval square that was in need a central feature to single it out as a place of prominence, for it was here that all of the comings and goings of the travellers from Manchester to Buxton, and back again, rested at the medieval coaching inn, The Bull's Head. It was set back from the old road, which led off up a slow incline into the distance, and always bustling with travellers and noise, and the clink-clank from the smithy which stood opposite. Above the door, carved in stone, was a bull with a whipping tail, stood atop of the Darcy coat of arms and the words 'Unum Factum Ex Multis' chiselled out, signifying the patronage of this illustrious family.
The road that crossed the outskirts of the Pemberley estate, for the hall itself was over a mile from it, was smooth and curved, covered by a canopy of trees which arched gracefully overhead like ballerinas. On the hill was St Mary's, the old Tudor church which looked down on the village below. Louisa knew that this was where all the Darcys were laid to rest at the end of their earthly days, hidden away in the understated mausoleum amongst the mossy edges of the churchyard. It had also been a Darcy who had paid for its construction, a frustrated Knight who laid down his weapons after the death of his wife and dedicated himself to his faith, deeming his fortune worthy of constructing a quaint chantry chapel, with a tower and bells that rang out at every minor and major event of importance.
Louisa knew that this is where Fitz wanted to marry Jemima, parade his new bride out amongst the villagers and tenants, and thrown silver coins into the air in celebration. She eyed Jemima, sitting across from her; she had a stiff and rehearsed countenance, as if she were already the lady of the estate and way above the people they had passed on the short ride into town.
"Lambton is a delightful village, is it not?" she said, above the thud and shuffle of hooves.
"Aye," Jemima said dismissively. "Although, I doubt I would rejoice in spending a great deal of time here."
"You would not?"
"The society would be very dull, a continual stream of tradespeople and the occasional fashionable visitor. Like yourself, of course," she rolled her eyes, "what would one do outside of entertaining?"
Louisa raised an eyebrow, "the Darcy family play a very important role in Lambton, and the Mistress of Pemberley would have a whole host of duties and tasks to perform. Miss Darcy makes it a matter of point to visit the sick and the elderly tenants, she continued the tradition of her mother, who was much beloved amongst the tenants because of her kindness and care."
"That may be, but in town Lady Anne Darcy had a terribly low opinion of those who were not part of the upper orders, and considered herself most elevated in society," Jemima said, with some irony as her nose was in the air as they passed a group of labourers by the side of the road. "If she had still been alive, she would have never considered you – the daughter of a tradesman, despite your marital connections – as suitable for admission to Pemberley."
"Possibly not," she said. "Are you of the mind to be less discerning than she once you have the Darcy jewels around your neck?"
"Mrs Hurst! You speak as if I am already engaged!"
"I think we both know it is inevitable, don't we?"
There was a look of triumph and relief that crossed Jemima's face, "not to be too presumptuous, Louisa, but I feel that a formal proposal is imminent."
"You do?"
"I do. Darcy had already spoken to my Uncle, which unless he finds some serious objection it's a solid commitment, and my Uncle was hardly likely to decline Mr Darcy of Derbyshire!"
"And Fitzwilliam?"
"Ah, Louisa. They are one and the same, for one cannot marry Mr Darcy without also marrying Fitzwilliam."
She averted her gaze out of the window of the carriage, a small smile on her lips that Louisa found, on thinking about it, that she didn't really care for, particularly as she was aware that whilst Fitzwilliam and Mr Darcy shared the same name they were not, for the most part, the same person and that the private man and his public persona were two very different entities.
"When you are married do you think you will spend most of your time in town?" Louisa knew that Fitzwilliam was relying on marriage to remove him from the social whirl that he had come to tolerate with less humour. "Darcy doesn't really care for it much. I often suspect that he would have been much happier as a country gentleman rather than a society one."
"Darcy knows his way around London, Louisa," she sniffed. "Besides, what would be the point of having such a grand house if we were to spend all of our time rotting in the countryside."
"Yes," Louisa said, "I suppose it's always better to spend more time in town when you are so close to the Prince Regent." She watched carefully to see the reaction, "but one must know that the Darcys have always been married from Pemberley and, in my understanding, the Rector here is always most adamant that the banns must be read for at least three Sundays, as is the law."
"Surely Darcy would be able to obtain a Special License and we could be married wherever we wanted."
"But what would be the rush?"
Louisa could see the panic on Jemima's face, knew how long it had been from her own court connections since the lady had been intimate with the Prince, thoroughly understood that even Fitzwilliam wouldn't be able to reconcile the timings if there was any delay in the marriage.
"There would be no rush," she said hurriedly, "and there hasn't even been a proposal yet."
"Quite," Louisa said, her mouth tight. "Anyway, I think you will find Lambton the most charming little village. Mr Staughton has arranged for us to have nuncheon at the Inn, and then we can go and buy some supplies. Beatrice and Miranda are desperate to pull their bonnets apart and make them new, and any activity that keeps them both occupied for a few hours works wonderfully well for me, for if I have to listen to one more out of tune recital, I fear I will cut my own ears off."
Jemima smiled politely, but she was already gazing out as the carriage pulled up outside the mullion windowed coaching inn, already bustling with passengers alighting from the burgundy liveried Manchester to Buxton stagecoach, horses being changed, and sweaty, pink-faced young men hauling trunks across the gravel.
"DAAAAARRRRRCCCCYYY!"
A loud bellow shot across the forecourt, and a large man dressed in dark blue coat directed the liveried carriage into a prominent position. Two boys came running along, dodging in and out of the way, before arriving slightly breathless to open the doors and help the ladies alight. Louisa smiled graciously, handing a penny to each. It amused her to watch Jemima daintily step out of the carriage with a grimace on her face. Nearby a group of country women dressed in gowns that were once very fashionable, looked over and stared, intrigued by the London ladies with their delicate muslins, pinched cheeks, and ostrich feathers fluttering from their bonnets.
The blue coated man, his usually sour expression brightened by the appearance of two pretty ladies from the estate, directed them inside. They walked into the bustling inn, heavy with smoke and noise, following a slight red-haired girl in an over-sized bonnet, who led them up the creaking, worn stairs and to the private room where there was a small table, laid out with meats, bread and biscuits. She could already feel her stomach rumbling. They sat down, and the girl hurried over to fill mugs with small ale, splashing some onto the table in her haste, the warm liquid dotting across the delicate fabric on Jemima's reticule, causing a short scowl to cross her face, temporarily diminishing the beauty of her features.
"Would Darcy insist on a wedding in the country?"
"Aye," Louisa prodded, "and a three week wait. He would want you to have the very best for your nuptials."
"We could source the very best of the very, very best in town, and get married from my Uncle's house."
"Oh, Darcy would never allow it," Louisa said dismissively. "You would be wed from Pemberley. I mean, if a proposal is forthcoming, of course." She glanced over with a smile, "you will be wed before the summer is over."
She wasn't completely certain, but it definitely looked as though Jemima Godwin's countenance paled at the thought.
"Or sooner…?"
"Not unless something were to force it," Louisa said in a softer voice, "but, there would never be anything to cause such impropriety, of course."
"No, of course."
Both women were silent, until the red-haired girl bounded in with a plate of cake and small pastry pies, knocking over the ale and causing Miss Godwin to frizz in anger. Louisa watched as the lady thoroughly scolded the young girl and realised that she was like a rabbit caught in a snare. There was only one course of action now for Jemima and it would, if the best luck were on their side, be her downfall.