Chapter 29
"Are you well, Anne?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked in some concern. He was seated in the Rosings' carriage across from Anne and her companion, while a vigorous summer rain fell on the surrounding fields and forests. As a member of His Majesty's army, Fitzwilliam had often been forced to ride many weary miles in the middle of poor weather. It was a delight to be in an expensive vehicle, completely dry, though he spared a moment of compassion toward the footmen and postilions who were getting wet. His horse, too, was wet, but Pineapple had always enjoyed the rain and was no doubt happy enough.
"I am well," Anne reassured her military cousin, forcing her lips to tilt upwards at Richard's worried gaze. "Indeed, the weather is not overly hot, and this carriage is sufficiently well sprung that I am not ill in the least. I am, I admit, rather fearful of Lady Catherine's response to this journey, but there is no point dwelling on it. I made my decision and must deal with the consequences."
"It is difficult for you, I know," Richard agreed compassionately. "You have every reason and right to come to Ramsgate with us, but I fear Lady Catherine will likely disapprove because it was not her idea. Your mother is at fault for treating you like a child when you are a woman."
"A woman with poor health and a weak will," Anne said drearily, turning to stare out at the sodden countryside.
"If I may say, Miss de Bourgh," Mrs. Jenkinson said in a stern voice, "you are doing yourself a disservice. You know your mind as well as anyone, but you choose not to battle with Lady Catherine, which would turn Rosings into a war zone."
Anne sighed and said, "That is true enough. Mother will not tolerate disagreement from anyone except, perhaps, Lord Matlock. She respects him as head of the family, but no one else."
"Anne?" Richard asked impulsively.
"Yes?"
"You do not need to answer this, but I wonder why you do not wish to marry Darcy. He is quite able to maintain a firm position with Lady Catherine, and he is a good man who would not try to control your life as your mother does."
Anne grimaced. "Indeed, Richard, Darcy is a good man. However, his character is too much like mine; we are both rather quiet and taciturn. I believe that he would do well with a livelier partner, and based on his interactions with Miss Bennet ... am I reading too much into his obvious delight in the lady's presence?"
The Colonel grinned and said, "Not at all, Anne. You are entirely correct that Darcy admires Miss Bennet, and Georgiana quite adores her as well."
"I am happy for them," Anne said. "In any case, even if Darcy were interested in marrying me, I have no desire to wed a man who owns a large estate of his own. Our mutual cousin is a very diligent man and would doubtless wish to travel between the two estates, and I hate long trips by carriage. I always feel sick and bored and weary. I really would like to spend the rest of my life at Rosings, but without my mother in residence."
"You need to marry a man without an estate, who has sufficient force of will to manage Lady Catherine," Mrs. Jenkinson said decidedly.
Richard cast a startled look at his cousin's companion and Anne, observing his surprise, said, "Mrs. Jenkinson is a dear friend, and I find her advice invaluable. Due to my mother's dictates, she is required to the part of the hovering companion in company, while displaying her true character in more private settings."
"Away from your mother, you mean," Richard said heavily. "It is an exasperating and frustrating situation, Cousin. However, in two short months, you will turn five and twenty, and Rosings will legally revert to you at which point you can, if you wish, require Lady Catherine to live at the Dower House."
Anne grimaced and said, "Realistically, I will not be able to do so. I have been under my mother's thumb for too long, and I know I cannot stand up to her fury."
Richard Fitzwilliam sighed and patted his cousin's hand sympathetically. "I understand completely."
/
"I thought all ladies knew how to ride a horse!" Georgiana said in astonishment.
Darcy winced at his sister's rather strident tone, but Elizabeth only smiled and said, "Well, I do not. Jane is an accomplished horsewoman, as is my sister Lydia, but I prefer walking to riding."
"But you cannot walk nearly as far as you can go on a horse!" her friend pointed out.
"No, but then Longbourn is not nearly as large as Pemberley. There is another factor at play as well. My father has not devoted much of the income of Longbourn to horseflesh. We have carriage horses that are also used for the farm, and only three mares for riding, none of which are appropriate for a beginner. There was a more sedate horse available for Jane when she learning, but it died and was not replaced. Lydia is such a bold soul that she learned on a difficult beast, but I, after being thrown once, decided that walk was preferable."
"That is sensible," Darcy said. "Many men and women have been gravely injured, and some even killed, while attempting to ride an unruly horse."
"Is your family so poor that you cannot afford more horses?" Georgiana asked unhappily. "That is sad."
This time, both Darcy and Mrs. Annesley, who was seated next to Georgiana, cringed openly, but Elizabeth grinned and said, "No, not at all! My dear friend, it is all a matter of priorities! My father loves books far more than horses, and he will always choose a folio over a foal. I approve, since I too love to read."
"Fitzwilliam can buy both stallions and as many books as he likes," Georgiana said in a troubled tone. "It seems unfair."
"Your brother has a very substantial income," Elizabeth said, looking at Darcy. "Furthermore, given how large Pemberley is, I daresay it is vital that there are plenty of horses so that he and others can make their way quickly to tenant farms. Of course, even Mr. Darcy cannot buy everything. Everyone makes choices about how they spend their money, and anyone can go into debt even with a vast income."
"The Regent has shown us that," Darcy agreed grimly, grasping Georgiana's hand in his own. "I do not think Miss Bennet minds that she does not have a horse to ride, my dear."
"Indeed, I do not," Elizabeth assured her friend. "Now I presume you are an excellent rider?"
"I am a good but not excellent rider. Fitzwilliam bought me a golden mare that I named Sunbeam, and I often ride her around the estate. Oh!"
"Oh?" Darcy repeated, puzzled.
"Do you smell that?" his sister exclaimed, her blue eyes suddenly alight.
"I do!" Elizabeth answered in wonder, turning her head toward the open carriage window. "What is that wonderful scent?"
"It is the ocean, Elizabeth. That is the fragrance of the salt air. Is it not delightful?"
Elizabeth felt her nostrils quiver at the smell drifting in the window. "It is glorious."
/
"Here you are, Mr. and Mrs. Smythe," Mrs. Albert said with a smile at her guests. "It is quite a large room, and you can just see the ocean from the northwest window. Breakfast is served at nine o'clock, and dinner at six. Now, I will leave you both, and I hope that you have a very pleasant stay in Ramsgate."
The landlady hurried out of the door and shut it behind her, leaving George Wickham and Henrietta Younge to curiously regard their surroundings.
"It is quite decent," Mrs. Younge said grudgingly. "I see no dust on the floors and the room is a reasonable size."
"So is the bed," Wickham commented lasciviously.
Mrs. Younge slapped him gently on the arm. "We have no time for such nonsense now, George. I hope that we can see the back of Darcy's rental house from here."
Wickham strode over to the corner window and peered out, then nodded with satisfaction. "We have an excellent view of the courtyard behind the house. Do look!"
The woman joined him and peered out. "Yes, you are quite right. We can take turns watching to determine when their carriage is being readied for departure. Of course, last year Miss Darcy and I often walked to the beach from the front door, and if she and her party depart through the front door, we will not be able to see them from here."
"It matters not," Wickham said firmly. "I know Georgiana – she will insist on visiting the birds in the marshes at least twice, and we can follow with our horses and snatch her. We can hardly abduct her on the road or the beach, but the marshes are lonely places."
Henrietta Younge stared at her companion and said, "So it is openly abduction now, is it?"
"Certainly, my love," Wickham returned, lifting the woman's right hand and pressing a kiss on it. "I am hoping Georgiana comes willingly, but it is still an abduction since she is not yet of age. Do not worry, my dear Henrietta. All will be well."
"I hope so. Now get some sleep. I will watch for the Darcys and will wake you up in time for dinner."
"Very well, love," Wickham said, and promptly threw himself onto the bed, where he drifted off to sleep in a few short minutes.
Mrs. Younge quietly approached a mirror hanging on the wall and stared into it, considering her reflection. Both Mr. and Miss Darcy knew her well, and thus she had chosen to wear a black wig over her usual red tresses, and she was wearing a sturdy blue gown which made her look like the wife of a publican or something of the sort. Wickham, too, had taken care to disguise his appearance by setting aside his red military coat, allowing his beard to grow, and putting on (rather to his disgust) a loose fitting white shirt covered by a rough hunting jacket, and a pair of brown trousers. It was likely that they would be recognized if they came within twenty feet of the Darcys, but they had no intention of doing so until they were ready to capture Georgiana.
Mrs. Younge opened her valise, pulled out a fashion periodical and walked over to sit on the chair which looked down upon the Darcy's courtyard. So far, there was no sign of the Darcy's party, though they might have arrived earlier in the day or, if they were delayed, they might not arrive for a few days yet. All she knew was that they were to arrive by the end of July, and that time had come.
She chewed on her lip and frowned worriedly. They had enough money to stay for a week here at Ramsgate, but the cost of their room would make a severe dent on their savings. At least Wickham had provided both horses for their ride from London to Ramsgate. They were surprisingly good horses, and Henrietta guessed that Wickham had stolen them, not that she really wanted to know.
An hour went by as Wickham slept and Henrietta read The Ladies' Monthly Museum, with occasional glances at the still quiet courtyard behind the red brick house where the Darcys would be staying. A soft, gentle huff caught her attention at this point, and she turned to regard her beloved George who had turned over and was now facing her, though his eyes were closed in repose. Even with his face partially covered by a nascent beard, he was an incredibly handsome man.
She smiled, her thoughts going back to her first meeting with the handsome godson of George Darcy. She had been born Henrietta Mason, eldest daughter of a country gentleman of moderate wealth and expensive habits. At the age of nineteen, she had married a neighbor, Mr. Stephen Younge, a military man with his own predilection for the gaming tables. Within a year, Mr. Younge had spent all of her dowry. A year after that, he had fallen in battle. Her father had died only two months afterwards, and Henrietta's eldest brother had succeeded to an impoverished estate and a mountain of debts. She, Mrs. Henrietta Younge, had been well educated and found herself having to earn her daily bread by serving as governess of three spoiled children in the family of a baronet who lived near London.
She had met George Wickham there. He was studying at Cambridge and came home with a friend. It had been, for Henrietta at least, lust at first sight. Her own husband had not been a handsome man, and George Wickham, with his effortless charm and elegant features, had provided excitement and pleasure that was quite gone from her life. She had been disappointed that Wickham had only visited his friend once more, and then disappeared from her life for several years.
Nearly two years ago, he had found her working for another family and proposed that she seek a position with the Darcys. She had leaped at the chance; one girl in her teens, even a peculiar one, would be far less exhausting and irritating than the four noisy, ill-mannered boys in her care!
It was only after she won the position that Wickham had approached her again, in secret, urging her to help him convince Miss Georgiana Darcy to elope with him. She had agreed, of course. She could hardly deny Wickham anything, and if they had succeeded, she would have obtained a large sum for her part of the plot.
And then Darcy had shown up early, and it had all fallen apart. Well, this time would be different. She hoped.
To her considerable surprise, tears suddenly sprang to her eyes, tears of anxiety and anger. This entire plot was, she knew, reckless in the extreme. If they succeeded, she and George would be wealthy beyond anything they had ever known. If they failed, well, it could mean that they could both end their lives at the end of a jerking rope. On the other hand, it was entirely unfair that the Darcys were able to live such easy, comfortable, indulgent lives while she had to work so hard to make her own way. She and George deserved good things as much as anyone else.
And George was correct about another thing; Darcy, a haughty gentleman, would do anything in his power to suppress a hint of scandal surrounding his only sister. Even if they failed, they would be well enough.
A sound from outside prompted her to set aside her musings and turn to the window. A moment later, she let out a sigh of pleasure; two carriages had pulled up in the courtyard behind the red brick house, and she recognized Mr. Darcy and Miss Darcy among them. Excellent.
/
/
Author Note: There will be 5 more chapters (35 total) posted here on FF, which will complete the main story. I will need to take most of it down on Oct 22 due to Amazon's publishing rules. FYI, it will be published under the same name, "Peacocks of Pemberley".