Chapter 147

Fitzwilliam had postponed finishing his letter to Colonel Drummond until after he'd faced the older man's challenge. She knew he would have liked to do more to prove his mettle, the colonel had distinguished himself in the revolutionary wars in France, and Fitzwilliam might consider himself lacking in bravery compared to an army officer who had been on active duty five times. And riding was very likely the only field in which Fitzwilliam was more daring than the colonel. But there really was no need to prove anything, Fitzwilliam had responsibility to his tenants, and the colonel to his regiments, and they both had to discharge that responsibility as best they could. Why the need to be more daring than another man?

After reading the letter, which contained an invitation to both the colonel and his wife to visit during the hunting season, Elizabeth decided she'd go and see Mrs Reynolds to make the final arrangements for the tour of the house, March was coming to an end and the weather seemed to be warming daily. Soon people would start requesting to view the house, and while Mrs Reynolds loved to lead them around, she also liked to have her mistress' opinion on what to tell them and what not.

Expecting to find the housekeeper in the common-room, Elizabeth made her way there first, but instead of the housekeeper, now back to work entirely but still excellent friends with Mrs Eliot, she found Fanny, hemming what seemed to be a large embroidered table cloth. Though surprised to find her mistress in the servants' quarters, Fanny curtseyed politely but not humbly, still, she seemed a lot less independent than whenever she was in Elizabeth's own dressing room. Well, in a way it was not surprising that an elderly lady like Mrs Annesley or Mrs Reynolds inspired more respect in a young woman than Elizabeth, who was very young and rather familiar with her personal maid.

'Mrs Darcy, can I help you?'

'Yes, please, Fanny, I'm looking for Mrs Reynolds.'

'I think she is in the cellar, ma'am, I can fetch her for you if you like. Though I think she will be back soon, she left when I started and I'm nearly done.'

'In that case I'll wait, and you can tell me how things are going here. You know, with Bob, and Dora, and all the others.'

Fanny did not hesitate but merely fell into the comfortable mood she usually displayed when working on Elizabeth's toilette, more familiar towards her mistress though still hard at work. She was one of those people who could perform a rather precise task and still talk sense.

'Let me see, ma'am, I'll start with Bob. He is very happy to be back here, and I can see why, it's like having a large family. Everyone has been so nice to us, even Bruce. And everyone has been nice to Bruce, that could have been different, people like Bob so much, they might have tried to get back at Bruce but they didn't. Bob is everything I hoped for in a husband, caring, sweet, but he puts his foot down these days when he knows he is right, and not just to me. Bruce wants to return to town, and Bob is teaching him how to keep the horses trim and eager when living confined. And our rooms are lovely, ma'am.'

'And how does living in the country suit you, Fanny?'

'Excellent, though I miss my mum and sisters and brothers. They can rarely write, you see, because of the cost. But the people here are like family, and not so different from back home. I could get used to living here, I think, though I loved being your personal maid more than anything.'

Poor Fanny, there wasn't much chance anymore of Elizabeth wanting to be dressed and made up to within an inch of her life on a regular basis. Life was much better in the country. But once Fanny got with child she would want to stay put a little more, and she'd want Bob there for her. Maybe they should indeed have Bruce taught to drive the thoroughbreds. Or take Hugo to town, let him share responsibility of the Pemberley stables a little more often with the adult stable hands like Bob and Peter.

Fanny was not the kind to complain and she quickly added, 'But Mrs Reynolds always finds something to do for us, ma'am, I have not felt useless, nor has she asked me to do anything that might be considered demeaning for a personal maid, like clearing fireplaces or doing the rounds upstairs.'

That was probably their way to refer to emptying the chamberpots.

'I'm glad, Fanny, and in April we expect visitors, then Mrs Fielding and I will need your services again. My aunt Gardiner really likes to see her nieces dressed up. So how is Dora?'

'She'll be pleased you asked, ma'am, she felt so much better to have talked to you and Mrs Fielding but she was ashamed to have let herself go. I told her that if Mrs Fielding asked, she wanted to know and Dora could not have refused to answer. That settled her just fine, and now she is hoping for miserable weather to be allowed to do up the young lady's hair. I remember Mrs Fielding vaguely resembling a mop or a sheep when we tried that, but if she has promised Dora they'd try it, she will remember. She always keeps her promises, Mrs Fielding does. They are such a beautiful couple, she and Mr Fielding, and so very happy together.

Oh, and Dora received a letter from that boy she wrote, she refers to him as a boy but Fowler says he is as much a man as Dora is a woman. Where she can hear it, too, he does not gossip. I can't imagine why she fell for him, he is exactly like a bossy older brother, I'm glad I'm the eldest at home. But she still yearns for him sometimes, though it's getting less, and I have to admit he can be very charming and he is quite handsome when he smiles. Pauline said he got her into a world of trouble, told on her to Mrs Reynolds when she chatted him up a little, just to be nice. But I didn't believe that and I told her so, Fowler would never lead someone on, he is nice but always correct. And then she admitted Mrs Reynolds had merely warned her to be more careful with men, they might take her advances seriously and get her, and themselves, into trouble. I think she wanted to use Fowler to get at Simon, she always watches him whenever he is in here. He knows, he has been very cool and polite to her but she doesn't seem to get it. I'm afraid she won't do well here, ma'am, she is too calculating.'

Nick had said Pauline wanted help for her sister and to improve herself. Well, Georgiana had had the sister over to test her intelligence and her knowledge and she had been impressed. If the father agreed Fitzwilliam wanted to send her to town to be taught nursing, and since the man had only one daughter less than her own father and decidedly fewer means to raise them, she expected him to jump at the chance to have one of them able to support herself.

But hearing Fanny she doubted that Pauline would manage to wrestle herself loose from her humble roots, she'd likely chat up some farmer's son as well and get herself with child and into a forced marriage. If she was lucky. Well, if they managed to help the sister, some of that advantage would flow back to Pauline, who did after all get her the help she needed.

'I trust your judgement, Fanny, and Nick's and Mrs Reynolds'. She can probably stay for our relatives' visit, and if she hasn't started to adapt by then she probably never will. But you were going to tell me about the letter Dora received, did it make her happy?'

'Oh yes, ma'am,' Fanny said with a cheeky wink, 'and not just because Fowler spent half an hour on her helping her read it. She told me all about it afterwards, apparently this man almost begged her to give him a chance. That it had nearly broken his heart to see her with Fowler. Of course that had been quite embarrassing to read with the man sitting next to her, helping her spell it out, but apparently he took it well. I do think he feels like her brother, he is very protective of her. And of Mrs Manners, he follows her around everywhere. Why does Mr Manners keep him, ma'am, if I may ask? He can protect her well enough himself, can't he? He is as broad as Fowler and Bates says his master can wrestle like no-one else.'

Well, the question was going to pop up at some time. Better give Fanny a good story now and she'd not hesitate to address that issue whenever it cropped up.

'You know Mrs Manners' mother tried to take her back to her estate?'

'Yes, ma'am, I heard.'

'She won't try again here, but they are not going to stay here forever. And they are planning to go to the continent, where life can be quite dangerous, even for a gentleman. Having a body guard is quite intense, he is supposed to follow you everywhere, and you can imagine a lady wouldn't want just any strong fighter that close. There needs to be a certain bond between a guard and his charge, and that is why Nick is still here, or here already: Mrs Manners trusts him, he has proven himself worthy of that trust, and he has excellent references. If Mr Manners dismissed him now he would find another employer soon, and Mrs Manners would have to get used to a whole new guard when they leave here. And not just she, all the others would have to live with him, too. He might not be as suitable. So they have decided to keep Nick, teach him some extra skills he might need on the continent, like behaving like a gentleman himself, so he can accompany Mrs Manners everywhere without people knowing he is actually a dangerous fighter.'

'Fowler is dangerous, ma'am?'

Elizabeth laughed, apparently Fanny bought her excuse, even though Anne was married now and Lady Catherine would be very pleased with the match.

'Extremely dangerous, Fanny, though I admit he doesn't look like it. Which makes him all the more valuable as a guard. I've seen him teach Mr Manners some tricks and believe me, they were very nasty. And effective. Also, he is rapidly learning how to use a rifle accurately, and I think Mr Manners may get him a handgun once they're across the North Sea. But I hope you understand now why he accompanied Mrs Manners to Pemberley?'

'I do, ma'am. And I know he isn't dangerous to us. It's just that some questions were raised.'

'And you have my permission to address them when they do so again. Or they might ask Nick himself, he won't mind answering them.'

'Well, some hinted that he liked Mrs Manners more than he should, but then the others said that was Mr Manners' business, not theirs. They did not say that in front of Dora, though, she'd have killed them. I like a bit of news as much as anyone, ma'am, but some people just take it too far. I know Fowler has this reputation, but as far as I know he is kind and respectful to everybody. I don't like hearing people gossip about him, and neither does Mrs Reynolds.'

Now Fanny was silent, as if she suddenly remembered something thoroughly unpleasant.

'Speaking of gossip, ma'am, I feel I should tell you. There is some rumour going around that you have been blessed. You know, that you may be with child. I suppose it's the seamstress not realising that anything she says about you is of interest since you made the papers so often. And now word is that you gained weight where it matters.'

Fanny was very embarrassed, but she did tell her mistress what she'd heard.

'Well, you know as well as I do that I did indeed gain a little weight,' Elizabeth replied playfully. She'd hoped to have left the newspapers behind but certainly Fanny couldn't help that.

'I did, ma'am, when you got dressed before the wedding. Your corset was a bit tight, but the dress was a ready-made and it just adapts. But I didn't tell anyone, ma'am.'

'I know, Fanny, and I'm glad you told me someone else did. I don't mind people gossiping, well, expect when it's nasty gossip, of course, but if I'd heard people talking about me I would have felt bad. Now I know what to expect. And the truth is, I don't know, Fanny. I may have eaten too much in London, or I may indeed be with child, it is to be expected.'

Now Fanny looked positively sly.

'You know my mother's midwife, the one who examined Mrs Collins that time at your house?'

Elizabeth could not believe what Fanny was going to say but nodded.

'She told me how not to conceive too quickly. I want a child, but not yet. I could tell you as well, ma'am, of course it is a sin, but we'll just have to take that risk, won't we? Bob and I cannot afford to have a baby while travelling from one house to another, I'd lose my position and he'd be away from me half the year.'

Fanny? Righteous Fanny?

'Thank you so much, Fanny. We don't need it now, but I'd like to hear about it in the future, we do not want five children like my parents, I'm from a very prolific family, like you. I appreciate your offer very much, Fanny. And please don't worry too much, if it does happen to you we will find a solution.'

'Thank you, ma'am, she did tell me it didn't always work, and my mother certainly doesn't lack children. She refused to hear the midwife, but I'm not going to slave away my best years for a sixth and seventh baby. I've raised enough siblings for now.

Ma'am, should I tell Mrs Fielding? She's so young, and about to go to Vienna.'

Well, maybe a midwife had a better option than Nick, it wouldn't hurt to hear.

'Yes, please, Fanny. She is very young and still so busy working on improving her playing.'

Fanny merely nodded, it would be very embarrassing but she would do it.

When the long-awaited letter from uncle Spencer arrived, Darcy didn't even dream of reading it all by himself. He did consider having Elizabeth read it to him in their bedroom or in the confidence room on the first floor before letting Georgie see it, for he dreaded the contents of that letter, and he didn't want his baby-sister to witness his reaction. She'd always admired him, and he just didn't want to take the chance of disappointing her. But he knew what Elizabeth would say, Georgie had the right to know as much as he did, and she was an adult now and perfectly able to handle a little unwelcome news.

So he sighed deeply and took the letter, unopened, to the drawing-room, where he knew he'd find Georgie and Fielding at the Clementi, now the main piano for their amusement and finally in the perfect tune it deserved. Elizabeth would probably be doing some needlework with Anne, they were each working on a tiny dress, Anne for their cousin Spencer's son, and Elizabeth for an as yet unknown baby, maybe Jane's, maybe Lydia's. Maybe her own? She seemed different these last weeks, calmer and almost dreamy sometimes, although she still loved to push herself riding and shooting, and her wit certainly hadn't suffered. She had gained a little weight as well, making her even more attractive, and come to think of it, she had been as eager as ever when they were in their bedroom by themselves, her fuller breasts released from the corset she usually wore under her chemise.

But, all that might be due to their long stay in town and the constant scrutiny they had been under, his beloved thrived under an almost regimental amount of exercise, which had been severely curtailed by the confines of a large city and the unwanted attention from the reporters keeping an eye on their house. If she had merely gained weight due to their stay in town she should start losing it quickly for they were back to their honeymoon habits, riding in the mornings and shooting, fishing or rambling in the afternoons, with some intimate but reasonably tiring activities in between. How she even found the time to embroider a tiny dress was a miracle in itself.

As he entered the drawing-room the sound of the piano proved Georgie and Fielding at least were where they should be. A look towards the seating area nearest the window confirmed Anne's and Elizabeth's presence, and Manners was sitting with them. The ladies were perfectly able to talk and work at the same time.

Elizabeth looked up, caught his eye, and her expression softened until his heart was in his throat with such an unthinking testimony of her love for him. He could barely remember the heartbreak he'd once felt over her, she had made him so incredibly happy that even those agonizing months were just a vague memory, as if they had been years ago instead of a little less than one year.

He just had to go straight towards her and kiss her, his feelings would not allow otherwise.

That done, he showed her the letter, and immediately noticed her expression changing to worry.

'Are you up to this, my love?'

'I am. I want to know the truth, and I cannot say I care very much about what it turns out to be. If Wickham is my brother by my father's blood you can stop feeling guilty about your sister's marriage connecting him to me. Remember, all uncle Spencer did for his younger son was support Fitzwilliam into the army, which is what I have been doing for George, after having given him a chance to study the law, and my father offering him the living if he took orders. He has had more chances than most second sons, and made a lot less of himself.'

The music had stopped and Georgie called out, 'Is that uncle Spencer's reply to your inquiry, Fitzwilliam? Let's hear it.'

What, right here? Well, why not, uncle Spencer was Anne's uncle, too, and Frederick already knew about Wickham's possible parentage. It would be rude to leave them behind for something that wasn't a secret anyway. But he handed Elizabeth the letter, she would have to read it.

Dear nephew,

I have been expecting this enquiry into your mother's personal effects for some time now, but I have to admit I was surprised to receive such a request from you. After having shared my suspicions about your late father's conduct, and Lieutenant Wickham's parentage, with your beloved wife I was convinced she shared my opinion that those suspicions should be kept between us until there was proof to substantiate them. On the other hand, I always shared everything with my dear Alice and I know she would have been hurt had I kept such possibly devastating knowledge from her, and I respect my niece-by-marriage's decision to enlist your aid in finding out the truth.

After receiving your letter I immediately searched my dear late sister's room, which we have never changed since her decease, and though I found a lot of painful but fond memories of the time when she and Alice were both still alive and well, I did not find any letters from Richard Darcy to Mrs Victoria Wickham.

I did find a letter that suggested Anne was aware of their existence, and a hint of who may still have those missing letters in her possession, though neither you nor Mrs Darcy will be pleased to find out where more information on this subject is to be had. I have copied the letter and included the original in this envelope, so you may read it for yourselves. If you draw the same conclusions I do, please let me know whether you will pursue this line of enquiry, or whether you prefer to let the past stay in the past: nothing will change after all by proving or disproving our theory.

I leave the decision up to you both, and just want to tell you how much I am looking forward to my visit in April, to spend a little more time with Mr Bennet and Mr Gardiner, both of whom I liked when we first met on dear Georgiana's birthday.

Spencer sends his love and so does Penny, Alexander Spencer is growing like a weed and generally a very good boy, he sleeps well and eats better. They loved the little dress you and Mrs Darcy sent for Alexander, and could not believe at first that she had made it all herself, especially the exquisite embroidery.

With respect and affection,

Spencer Compton

Elizabeth stared at him in abhorrence and Georgie cried out, 'Aunt Catherine, no! Now we'll never know!'

'Better read that, too, my love,' was all he managed to say. He did not want to beg his aunt Catherine for anything, not after the things she'd said about Elizabeth.

Elizabeth merely removed another sheet of paper from the envelope, unfolded it and started to read.

My dearest Anne,

I truly don't understand why you don't want to come to me at Rosings to see those letters you suspected Darcy to have written to Victoria Wickham. I realise now you only wrote to me to vent your feelings when you found out about them, from Victoria herself of all people!, but I am your sister and I love you, and Richard Darcy is breaking you, slowly but surely. Please believe me when I tell you that I was very sorry to find your fears of his deceit totally grounded. I thought you wanted me to take action, to prove their shameful behaviour and help you escape your deplorable situation. You know will always have a home with Sir Lewis and myself, Darcy cannot take Pemberley away from little Fitzwilliam, no matter what happens he is his eldest son and his legitimate heir, no need to endure further humiliations to secure your boy's future. I just want you to be happy, dear Anne.

Had I known your feelings I would not have sent Hughes on his mission to the Pemberley guard house to retrieve a few incriminating letters, but it was done, and done for the best. There is nothing I can do to undo that. Will you not come and live with me, you and your children? Anne would be so pleased to have Fitzwilliam close, even if it's just in the holidays. And I'm certain I could be of help with little Georgiana, I know a great governess who would take most of the strain from you, so you could regain some strength and finally enjoy your little girl.

Don't you see how cruel Darcy is to have that woman taking care of you, whilst conducting an affair with her? You say she even visits him in London, can we not put the stop to that at the very least, if you insist on staying with him? Force him to find another steward and get rid of that whole family? You say that you'd rather have him see someone you know and trust to keep quiet, but how do you know that he doesn't see other women as well? He is away in London for half the year, for all you know he has one or two mistresses out there as well.

Please reconsider and come to Rosings, at least to see for yourself what else he admits to in those letters, you'll be pleased to never see him again. Please, Anne, I only want what is best for you and your children. What if Fitzwilliam finds out? He is already seventeen and very smart for his age. You don't want him to find out what his father is really like, do you? He has enough on his mind with that George Wickham taking up most of his father's time. I can keep an eye on your boy while he is in London, but there is only so much an aunt can do, a boy needs his father. Please let me send Hughes to London as well, to discover what Darcy is up to there, maybe we can use it to at least force him to respect you and your children a little more.

I love you, Anne, please let me help you.

Yours for ever, Catherine.

They were all silent. Darcy had not realised how much Aunt Catherine had loved her sister, had not realised his aunt could love so deeply as this hastily written letter proved.

'Maybe we should visit your mother one of these days, Anne.'

As usual, Manners was the first to recover.

'Or I could write, in a way it's my duty to spend some time on my mother-in-law. I never had a sibling, but to love someone like that and see her duped, and not be able to do anything about it.'

Anne shook her head and replied, 'I'm not ready, Frederick. She could have loved me, too, but she never did. Instead she almost killed me trying to improve me. I do feel sorry for her, and I won't mind if you write, but I am not going to visit her until she admits she did wrong.'

'I understand. I'll see if I can write her then.'

'I feel almost as bad as when I read your letter, Fitzwilliam,' Elizabeth observed. 'I felt I had been so blind and prejudiced then, and I do now, to have taken such a dislike to her when she lost someone so dear to her.'

'That was almost ten years ago, Elizabeth!' Georgie now retorted, 'Anne is right, Aunt Catherine chose to live in the past and claim Fitzwilliam, instead of helping her very own daughter. The care she offered to give me was to hand me over to a governess so she could have her sister to herself. Fitzwilliam deserved what he got from you, and you never did anything to Aunt Catherine for her to treat you like dirt. Look at what you did for me, I'm a different person altogether! And you certainly made my brother the happiest man in the country.'

'And I'll never forget how you accepted me without question, Elizabeth. My mother is exactly what she seems, a spoiled, arrogant, good-for-nothing busybody, and she has treated you abominably. Maybe you can write to Hughes to get hold of those letters for you.'

That sounded like a good idea, but in a way Elizabeth was right, and Aunt Catherine had in fact always treated Darcy with kindness and even respect. She had never ordered him about, and had valued his opinion even when his father had still been alive and Darcy had admired and loved him like no-one else. She had never given so much as a hint to him that she disliked his father, never forcing Darcy to choose between his parents, never smudging his father's memory. Darcy had ever been his aunt's favourite, and while she had never influenced him for the good, if she had done her best for anyone, however unasked-for, it had been for Darcy.

Until he went against her wishes, that was true, but still she had been a steady presence in his life.

'I will not force a good man to do anything underhanded. I will write to her myself. Though you are both right, Anne and Georgie, she spent time on me for selfish purposes, but she did spend that time on me and she left me my illusions over my father's worth as a husband and parent. I am not looking forward to dealing with her but I want to know the truth, and that means asking her to release those letters to us.'

Then he took Elizabeth's hand and said with feeling, 'Georgie is right, my love, I did deserve your reproofs, and they forced me to improve myself, and then you made me the happiest man in the world. Please don't feel bad about disliking Aunt Catherine, you did nothing wrong there either.'

There was no hurry, though, he would spend quite a lot of time on deciding what to write to his aunt. He was not going to humble himself towards her, but of course they wanted something from her, so he would have to be polite. Maybe he could work on her common sense, Darcy had always shown her the respect she was due as his aunt, and she had always been rather attached to him, though in her usual condescending way. Come to think of it, she hadn't been quite as condescending to him as she had been to other people, even Anne. And Elizabeth still didn't seem to hold a grudge against Aunt Catherine, despite having plenty of reason to do so.

'Whatever you decide to do, Fitzwilliam, I will be right behind you. I don't care for your aunt, and I think she has treated both Anne and Mr Collins atrociously, but she always spoke of you with great affection and respect. If anyone can convince her to let the truth come out after all these years, it must be you.'

Anne's kind voice observed, 'She hasn't been all that kind towards you either, Elizabeth. Somehow you still seem to feel you have no right to a humane treatment from my mother because you are below Darcy, somehow you agree with her. But it's not true, you know. No-one could have made him as happy as you have, he waited for you, and if you had rejected him again his heart would have been broken for ever. You are good enough for him, and you are better than my mother, despite her being richer. More people love you, and not just that, more people respect you. You were right to address her as you did at the parsonage, do not be mistaken about that.'

And everyone present agreed, of course Fielding adored her no matter what, he didn't know Aunt Catherine and therefore had no clear opinion on her, but Darcy could see Georgie nodding, and Manners, though the latter didn't actually know her either. But they all knew Elizabeth and loved her nearly as much as Darcy did, she had been of importance to every single one of them, and a lot more people besides. His aunt would have to accept Elizabeth and promise to treat her with respect, if not kindly. She would never like Elizabeth, his beloved was too frank and too independent for Aunt Catherine to appreciate, his aunt preferred obeisance to intelligence and wit, but she would have to accept Darcy's love for Elizabeth and pay Mrs Darcy every civility due if they were to ever restore the connection. And yet, they were the supplicants here...

'Thank you all for your trust in me, I do appreciate it. Though I still don't care very much what Lady Catherine thinks of me, I would indeed prefer to be on reasonable terms with her. So let's write her then, my love, and see what she has to say.'

In the end, it took them a week and a half to come up with a letter of which the tone comprised a reasonable compromise between entreaty and self-respect. Elizabeth had been much milder than Darcy himself, probably because of what she said, she really didn't care what Aunt Catherine thought of her, so she couldn't feel humiliated by anything they wrote. She just wanted results, to gain hold of the missing letters.