Author's note

An extra chapter to liven up the holiday season and to celebrate the new year. And to celebrate the return of Revelations to Amazon, in a revised second edition, re-written in the past tense and split in two parts to improve the reading experience. I've also removed several anachronisms like ladies' underwear, and some words and expressions that weren't used at that time. To prevent bad reviews I have reduced most of the adult material to a mere mentioning of acts of love. Sadly, but better sales mean more time to spend on writing.

The current story is drawing to a close with the entire party moving to Pemberley after Georgiana's wedding (I'm quite a few chapters ahead of you, writing), but there are so many loose ends I expect Revelations to keep me occupied for much of 2017.

Chapter 107

Just a few days after Fitzwilliam's tour of the army camp, Anne finds herself hard put to stick to her own resolve of not letting regrets over losing Nick spoil her memories of a perfect time with him. She has even avoided contact with the Blackwood girls, seeing Nick again hit her so hard when she had just reached a certain level of acceptance. She's quite happy if she just doesn't meet him, so she avoids temptation by avoiding the house and its inhabitants. She has stopped going to the concerts for the same reason, and though Frederick obviously thinks she is crazy, he hasn't tried to convince her of Nick's loving her anymore either. He merely comforts her when she needs it, and treats her like nothing is wrong when she doesn't.

But with everyone out on a Saturday night it's lonely in the big house, and she cannot help feeling a bit forlorn and inclined to recall their evening dancing together in every single little detail, from the look in Nick's brown eyes to the feeling of safety filling her when they were dancing intimately. And how he guarded his charges, taking full responsibility until Felicity practically forced him to let it go. Then their night together, how he loved her until she forgot everything in the world except him. Her eyes burn with unshed tears. Maybe going out with someone else will help. Lieutenant Talbot has sent her an invitation just this morning to have coffee Tuesday afternoon in a very fashionable place in town and she hasn't sent him a reply, yet. She is inclined to refuse, but frankly that won't help her. She has to consider a proper marriage with an eligible gentleman as seriously as an exciting union with a master-schemer. Even though sitting in a parlour all day doing needlework and amusing several children doesn't appeal to her at all. But maybe that is not what most gentlemen expect from their spouses, she thinks they do but what if she is mistaken?

Deciding then and there to send him a note tomorrow to accept his invitation, Anne feels much better. But she will not attend any more concerts, every semblance of peace of mind she can talk herself into will instantly disappear should she see Nick's face again, hear his voice, she'd want to touch his cheeks and his hair, and have him hold her close and give her those little loving kisses.

At first there is no-one to see her tears fall and to put an arm around her and tell her all will be well again. But of course Simon knows what direction her thoughts will take, he has been in love, too, a lot more hopelessly, for years. He knows what she will be suffering all by herself in a large house that is made warm and comfortable not by expensive furniture, but by the welcoming people inhabiting it. He knows he will find Anne in tears, and since he likes her a lot no matter what she decides in the matter of marrying Frederick, he breaks his own unspoken rule to not be familiar with his master's family and their friends anymore. Since his rise in rank and the start of his liaison with Frederick he deems it wiser to act the perfect servant within the drawing-room and any other room in the general part of the house. Private rooms are all right to be familiar in, the servants' quarters reasonably so, the drawing-room is off limits. But Anne's heartbreak cannot be ignored, and he sits beside her and takes her in his arms, letting her cry herself out against his much narrower chest, smelling of a gentleman's perfume.

'I don't know what to do, Simon,' she admits, voice still affected. 'Should I choose a life of freedom, risking to be left all by myself, or should I choose a man who will love only me, but at the risk of losing my freedom and being condemned to a life of perpetual boredom?'

Though of nearly the same age Simon has so much more experience with life, he cannot imagine Anne not thinking of the only true answer to that question. But she has been virtually asleep for ten years, and secluded at her mother's estate, so he will tell her what to do this once. She is learning so quickly, half a year from now she will think of these things herself, if she takes his advice right now. He snuggles her close, she has never had much love from others and he was raised with several sisters, he knows what girls need.

'You do not need to decide now, Anne. Take your time. Explore your options, and just decide for yourself how far you want to take the exploring. Don't hesitate to kiss a man who wants you to marry him, ask him what he expects of marriage. Explore, and don't force yourself to decide quickly. You have all the time in the world!'

Sunday is an early day, no time for lazing about, they need to pick up Lydia to go to the chapel at the army camp for morning service. Elizabeth makes sure she will not look out of place there, no matter what Lydia may think or say it is not respectful to go to church dressed up as if for a party. On their way out, Fanny sits in the carriage with them, dressed in her best since she and Bob will join the service as well, and she tells them about the night before.

'I do feel a little bad, ma'am, gossiping about other people on my way to church. I'm not the kind of person who can't not gossip, I can keep my own counsel pretty easily, but I must admit I do enjoy watching people's behaviour and telling you about it. You always have such keen observations, you and Mr Darcy.'

And Elizabeth likes Fanny's view on people and situations, she has real humour and a surprising insight in human nature for a girl her age who has had little education. Maybe it's Mrs Annesley's influence, she works with Fanny most of the day and she used to be a governess. But somehow Elizabeth thinks some people have a natural way with other people, and Fanny most certainly is one of them.

'We had been warned the servants would be formal at the Drummond estate, but we never expected what we found. Bob was talking to a stable boy who said the master had asked for him to help with the horses, and while I was waiting to be introduced to him and to have a look around the stables, an old man came along and shooed me off really nastily.

'No house staff in the stables, young lady, you should know better than coming here to make eyes at the stable boys, shame on you! Don't let me see you here again, or I'll notify Thompson and you'll be very sorry!'

For some reason I did not feel hurt by his crabbiness, I remained perfectly calm and said a bit arrogantly, 'I beg your pardon, mister, but I'm not from this household. I'm Mrs Darcy's personal maid, I've just arrived with the master and mistress.'

Well, that settled him, he made an excuse and had one of his boys show me the entrance to the house and hand me over to the house staff for keeping. But I didn't get to see the stables, I didn't even see Bob anymore all evening! They had separate common-rooms for house staff and stable personnel, and the stablemaster, for that is who that obnoxious old man was, didn't even know the maids living in the house.'

That is just incredible! They seem such friendly, normal people, the Drummonds. And something like this is going on behind the scenes?

'So this maid took me to their common-room, which was a snug enough place, and I asked whether I would see Bob at dinner, but they said the stablehands never came into the house. The gardeners did, strangely enough. They didn't know why, said it had always been like that and they didn't mind. Well, I certainly did! Dinner was fine, the atmosphere was fine, but I missed Bob. They did show me everything, kitchen, laundry room, storerooms, it was large and clean and as well-organised as Pemberley. They let me know when you ordered the carriage, and then Bob told me how his end of the evening had been, he had been chatting a lot with Smith, the stable boy. It seems the stablemaster started to separate his staff from the rest years ago, when he was promoted to his position. That was even before Mrs Drummond inherited the property from her father! Word among the stablehands is, a maid rejected him once for a valet when he was still very young. He has hated house staff ever since and never wanted to talk to another woman again. But maybe the boy was fooling Bob, I can't believe it, a whole household split up due to one man? Who according to Bob isn't even particularly good at his job? Apparently they had a fine common-room and a good dinner as well, but there were just men present, which struck Bob as weird. He was glad to go back,' Fanny concludes.

A peculiar story, maybe Fitzwilliam can give his friend the colonel a hint when they next meet.

'We'll be going there again tomorrow, Fanny, do you mind very much?' Fitzwilliam now asks. 'Bob is not really obliged to obey that old stablemaster, you know, he's my servant, not Colonel Drummond's. It's time the old fellow was replaced anyway, it's not as if that beautiful stallion wasn't suffering for his old-fashioned ideas, the saddle he still dared to use must have been as old as he is.'

'I think we'd both appreciate that, sir, maybe we could go out and have a stroll in their park together, Bob and I? We're engaged after all.'

'Consider it done, Fanny, I can imagine how it must feel, being all alone in a strange household.'

By now they have arrived at Lydia's place, she must have been waiting for them, before Bob has halted the team they can see her running towards them. And before Fitzwilliam can get out to hand her in she has opened the door herself and drops onto the seat opposite Elizabeth panting and laughing.

'I saw you coming for miles, our bedroom faces the road. Wickham wouldn't come, said to excuse him for once, but you know he never goes to church. Says he can't bear the hypocrisy of the good people there, whatever that means. Won't you stay, Fanny?'

Fanny, as a good servant girl, has gotten up to leave the master and mistress by themselves with their company. But Lydia seems to have a certain affinity with her and Elizabeth will use every advantage she can get to convince Lydia that losing a child happens to some people and is not her own fault.

'Maybe you should stay, Fanny,' Fitzwilliam observes. 'I suppose you have a lot of sensible, practical information that we lack.'

Looking only slightly surprised, Fanny sits back down and hears Lydia say enthusiastically, 'Abbey just loved talking with you, Fanny, I bet she expected you to have airs but of course you don't. And she knows dear Wickham saved you from that awful man at Jane's wedding.'

What can a poor maid do when thus addressed by her mistress' sister, than reply politely but briefly?

'I liked Abbey, too, ma'am, she's a very nice girl and she works very hard. And I'm still so grateful to Mr Wickham for saving me from a terrible fate.'

It is clear that Lydia finds the whole thing a great story to relate, since it presents her dear Wickham as a true hero, but for Fanny it's a real and frightful memory. And since they are not here to talk of dear Wickham's excellent qualities, Elizabeth changes the subject to their visit to the army chapel.

'Janet thought it would be best if you attend the service here, Lydia, since Mr Blaze has been on active duty himself, he knows what soldiers go through, and he knows how to support their families.'

Lydia now hangs her head and confesses, 'I know, Lizzy, but I didn't dare go by myself. Everyone knows who I am, they know I lost the baby, they'll know I am a terrible sinner. I preferred to go with Abbey and her mum, they are respected in their community and no-one asked about me. But I know I'll have to face judgement some day, if not in this life then in the next.'

Here Fanny dares say something.

'Mrs Wickham, many of my friends and my mother's friends have at one time lost a pregnancy or even a baby. That does not make them bad women, it just happens sometimes. Mrs Collins' baby was very healthy, but just like normal people, babies can also be sickly. My own mother lost two, one just after birth, and one still carrying, and she is the best and most religious woman ever.'

Somehow, Fanny has a very sincere quality and Lydia listens to her.

'But didn't she blame the Lord for taking her babies?'

'No ma'am, she did not. Our preacher explained that those who are especially loved are sometimes taken early. That has little to do with the parents, but more with the spirit of the child itself, it is more in tune with our Lord than other babies. You will have a healthy baby, yet, you can count on it. But I'm sure Mr Blaze can explain much better than I can, Mrs Wickham.'

Still, Lydia seems a lot calmer, somehow Fanny's explanation has worked, and because neither of the others has something to add, they spend the rest of the trip talking about how Lydia expects some of the things they ordered for her house to arrive tomorrow.

Once at the chapel, another wooden barracks but this one a single large space with benches, a simple pulpit and the usual trappings of a church, a lot of people do know Lydia, but this seems to make her feel welcome rather than oppressed. Even as total strangers, Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam are aware of the strong sense of community, a warm haven for someone like Lydia who is in need of some support. Bob and Fanny are equally welcome, they look very happy, walking hand in hand in their Sunday finery.

The service is impressive, Mr Blaze is a superb speaker for someone come to his calling so late in life. Of course his life's experiences have turned him towards the cloth, and they have also made him very eloquent on the subject of Christian values, mostly communal ones, something one might expect from a former soldier. Though something in his bearing tells Elizabeth this man is still a soldier, so upright and straight. Such a difference with her cousin, whom she has heard preach several times, and who on the pulpit displays the same patronising attitude she dislikes so intensely in his personal interactions with her. It's actually more than a little sad that his parishioners will never know preaching like this, humane, eloquent, and thought-stimulating.

After the service most of the churchgoers gather in little groups to chat a little before going home, Bob apparently already knows some men and takes Fanny along to be introduced. Fitzwilliam is approached by the captain they met yesterday at the dinner party, and Elizabeth takes Lydia to Mr Blaze. Despite his military bearing he looks very kind, and he greets Lydia by name.

'Mrs Wickham, I'm so glad you finally decided to attend service. Will you introduce me to your sister?'

Apparently Mr Blaze knows Lydia and the latest news about her. Janet must have told him and described the two of them. They shake hands with the kind clergyman, after which he suggests, 'I've heard from your friend that you may have a need to talk to me about some matters of religion. Would you care to follow me to a room where we have a little more privacy, as soon as I have taken leave of my flock?'

It takes another fifteen minutes for Mr Blaze to say his goodbyes to everyone who wants his personal attention, time Elizabeth spends being introduced to Lydia's other friends, Prissy, a young woman of Elizabeth's own age, and Irene, a matronly middle-aged lady. They are in the company of their husbands, both officers like Wickham, and Prissy has a baby on her arm, whereas Irene has two nearly grown-up daughters and a younger son. Janet also joins them with her husband and children.

Then Mr Blaze takes the two of them to a smaller room at the very back of the barracks, a warm tinted room with a comfortable fire, a small desk and a few seats arranged especially for intimate conversations. They are invited to sit down, and Mr Blaze looks at Lydia earnestly then says, 'I have heard what happened, of course, Mrs Wickham, and I'm very sorry to hear you suffered the dangers of the birth and the loss, when you were so looking forward to your little baby. I suppose I need not tell you that despite not having been baptised, your tiny little son will be waiting for you in Heaven when your own time has come?'

He is so kind and so understanding, why didn't Lydia see him before now? She has struggled with the loss of her baby for months, and in one sentence he has already given her so much comfort. Of course the clergyman's kind words cause Lydia to cry, and he puts a calming hand on her shoulder.

'Will you tell me what happened, Mrs Wickham? I have heard some things from your friends, but it's better if you tell me in your own words what you are so afraid of.'

And Lydia does, she tells him about eloping with Wickham and living in sin in London until Mr Darcy forced them to marry, though Lydia does not realise how much pressure Fitzwilliam brought to bear on Wickham, she thinks he merely offered the funds to make the marriage possible. She also hasn't a clue how much debt Wickham was in, how much money Fitzwilliam really sacrificed to get Wickham off the streets, so to speak. Then she tells Mr Blaze about having been reluctant all her life to go to church, and how she thinks this has cost her the baby she yearned for. He nods and encourages her to reveal even her innermost thoughts, her fear that she brought this on herself and her poor baby, and that it may happen again if she conceives before she has atoned for her sins.

'And Wickham still doesn't want to go to church, he says the Lord isn't much interested in the likes of him.'

And he wanted to be a clergyman!

But Mr Blaze is much more forgiving.

'I can understand your fear, Mrs Wickham, but it is not how the Lord guides us. I used to be like Lieutenant Wickham myself: a good man at heart, but bent towards earthly matters. Good to our men, righteous in principle, but easily misdirected by temptations. Misfortune is not a punishment, God sees the good in people as well as their sins, and does his best to lead them towards a better life, not smite them with his vengeance. He is forgiving and kind. Sometimes, those we love are taken away too early, and instead of turning away from Him in anger, or become bent with fear of His wrath, we should trust to Him to take care of those we miss in our lives. Your baby will be as happy with Him as he would have been here with you.'

'The midwife said he was deformed and better off dead. She also said it was a punishment for my sins.'

'The midwife was right in that a deformed child would probably not have survived long even if you had carried it to term. It is truly better off in the care of our Lord. But it was not your punishment, nor your husband's. Sometimes a woman is incapable of carrying a child to term, but usually such an unfortunate birth is followed by a happier occasion. Grieve for your lost baby, Mrs Wickham, and improve your life, give your husband the excellent example of going to church and trusting yourself to your Saviour. And in due time you will most likely have the baby you so crave, though of course you will never forget your little firstborn. I will talk to the midwife and set her theology straight, it is hard enough to lose a child without being made to feel responsible. You know you are welcome to join the service in our chapel here every Sunday, and if you feel the need to talk about this, or something else, you can come by any time you wish, I try to be available to my flock all the time, though of course I have some other duties as well. But then my aide will notify me and we can meet as soon as I am at liberty again.'

Lydia looks much relieved and almost adult as she replies, 'Thank you very much, Mr Blaze. I'm glad I came and I will certainly return. I'll try to get Wickham to come, too. He's not a bad man, you see, it's just that life hasn't been very good to him.'

Well, as long as Lydia believes that, someone does. Elizabeth thinks that Wickham's life became more difficult only when he started to veer off the path of righteousness, but who knows? She's not married to the man, Lydia is. Maybe he has told her things from the past that neither Elizabeth, nor Fitzwilliam know.

Georgiana generally finds church difficult. The thing inside her that drives her to improve her playing day in, day out finds it hard to sit still and do nothing for two full hours. She knows she needs to pay attention to religion to save her soul, but can't they do that by playing religious music? Isn't beautiful music as edifying as prayer? Didn't Mr Collins say so? He is a man of the cloth himself. The very thought almost makes her laugh in church, Eric would be abhorred. He doesn't seem to find it hard to sit still and concentrate on the minister, though his internal drive is as strong as Georgiana's.

But today, church is not a long wait keeping a solemn face until the minister has finished his preaching. For Frederick has taken to attending with them, escorting Anne as if the two of them are as engaged as Eric and herself are. Is Anne aware of this? Georgiana is certain Frederick is, he never does anything accidentally. But does Anne realise how people will become all weak-kneed at the very thought of Frederick Manners finally losing his heart to a woman, one with a really well-sounding name, but practically unknown in society until only a few weeks ago?

Looking at her cousin, Georgiana is pretty sure Anne is aware of the implications of allowing Frederick's attentions. She does not mind them, but does she seek them? She cannot be in love with him, she knows he will never get romantically attached to a woman. Or does she think she will be the one to 'cure' him? No, even Georgiana has had to adapt her opinion of Anne, though she has never even known her otherwise than half asleep and uncaring. Anne may be inexperienced, but she is not simple, and she is incredibly smart. She knows Frederick cannot be cured of his preference for men, she found out he was in love with Simon all by herself, by piecing together a few things Frederick told her and some gossip her maid repeated to her. Someone as perceptive as that knows where she stands. And that must be really close to Frederick, maybe even close enough to marry him for convenience, as he once hoped to do with Georgiana, when he still believed Eric and herself would not be allowed to get married because of his low birth.

Does that mean Anne is in love with someone beneath her? Or does it just mean she likes Frederick, and Simon too, well enough to go through life together? She certainly seems pretty close to Simon as well, they spend a lot of time together in either Simon's or Frederick's room. But why would she marry Frederick? To be free of her mother? She already is free of her mother, uncle Spencer has been very clear on that. Maybe she feels safe with a man around, but doesn't want to wait until she falls in love? Maybe she doesn't expect to fall in love again? She doesn't seem to be pining for Fitzwilliam, not like cousin Fitzwilliam is still moping after Elizabeth. Though Anne does seem to be moping after someone recently, and she has not come to any concerts for days now, even when her friends were there each day. They haven't been as keen to drool over Eric, they seemed to have a different escort, too. The broad fellow with the shiners, now fading rapidly, but no other liveried servants, instead they are accompanied by one or two gentlemen, officers if judged by their bearing and clothing.

He didn't look to happy either, the servant, probably because his charges are obviously seeing those officers. Another few months and he is out of a job. Maybe he was looking for a new position, he did seem to be looking for something. Well, a servant like that will soon find himself a new employer and new charges, those girls are obviously very safe with him about, and totally unable to make fools or nuisances out of themselves. Eric at least was very pleased to have their retainer keep those girls from getting too close to him. It'll be great to be at Pemberley as a family and have him to herself, married and all. Though Mr Clementi thinks they will need to move to Vienna, where romantic music is the thing, where Eric can learn a lot more if he manages to find one of the many composers in residence there prepared to teach him. Mr Clementi even predicted Eric could have his concerto played with an orchestra in Vienna.

'They'll just love it, I'm sure,' he said, 'it's new, it tells a story most people want to hear, you will have to work hard for fame with so much competition, but everybody in Vienna loves music, not just the rich.'

Then surely they will not adore their pianists so much, if they're used to visiting concerts? Then Eric will be one of many, and no longer subjected to all those hungry gazes? Well, first they'll finish this season, learning from Mr Clementi what they can while making money to pay him and invest in their future. And then they'll get married and take a break at Pemberley, learn German and also learn to ride, that'll give them something to do outside when the weather is fine, and it may come in handy when travelling. After that, they'll have to see, for now Georgiana's musings are cruelly disturbed.

Singing in church ought to be forbidden, at least for people who cannot sing. Fortunately Eric not only has a superb voice, it also carries quite well, so if she tries really hard she can listen to his singing and ignore the other people. That certainly is an advantage of Pemberley, a smaller church with fewer people. Maybe she'll ask Anne about Frederick later, if she dares.