Saturday, 16 April 1814
To myself,
We arrived rather late in the afternoon, as a storm delayed us, and my Catherine's condition is not improving. Her coughing fits are more frequent and I gave her a handkerchief, only to have it returned to me the colour of a bright red poppy. It pains me to see my love so ill, and her interactions with Mr. Wickham continue to irk me further. The wondering is beginning to eat away at me and I fear I must distract myself, or I will pester her further about it.
It is wonderful to be at Westfield again. When my Catherine asked me what the name of our Clitheroe estate was called, hearing its name confused her. 'What is the meaning behind it?' she asked me, and I informed her that it had been the surname of my great-great grandmother, whom had been much loved by my great-great grandfather, so much so that he named the estate that he had built for her after her. It's full name is Sophia Charlotte Caroline Westfield, but we have all shortened it to Westfield.
Mama had arrived only the night before, as our Matlock estate is only a day's' carriage ride away...
"My sweet daughter, how wonderful to have you here in our home!" Mama said lovingly to my Catherine. "You poor thing, your colour has drained from your face. I will place you in the comfiest bed I can possibly find here at Westfield!"
"Mama, but that bed would be yours," I said to her. "My Catherine and I cannot possibly take your bedchamber."
"Nonsense, I won't here of it, Richard! This home will someday belong to you, and it is about time you came into possession of the master bedchamber! After all, it is the only bedchamber connected to my bedchamber, where I will only allow my sweet daughter to sleep while she recovers."
"Lady Matlock, you're being so generous," said Catherine breathlessly, her arm in my mother's hands and my hand on her lower back.
"Formalities such as that are no longer necessary, my dear. You are my daughter now, through your marriage to my son," said Mama, but I could sense Catherine's discomfort.
"Mama, Catherine is tired. She must rest," I said; one look at my Catherine suggested that she was not going to protest, as she usually did when I recommended rest.
"Of course. The bed should already be made. It is waiting ever so anxiously for its occupant! I must see that a fire is started in the room and that our dearest Catherine has hot coals beneath her bed. Rest easy, my dear, and I shall bring you some broth later," said Mama, and she bestowed a kiss on Catherine's brow before attending to her business.
"Are we truly going to sleep in separate bedchambers?" asked Catherine weakly once we were alone.
"Absolutely not. If you think I can part from your side even for a moment, after all we have been through, then your illness is making you insane," I replied, lifting her in my arms and carrying her up the wooden stairs.
"Westfield is quite beautiful," Catherine said as I carried her down the upstairs corridor.
"Yes, this is a very historic home. Queen Anne stayed here once, a long time ago. In the very room that you will be staying in."
"Truly?" I nodded.
"I've always admired Queen Anne. She was so brave, taking on the throne after losing so much. And she did it brilliantly! I dream of meeting her."
"Hopefully, you won't be meeting her anytime soon, my love." The door to the bedchamber that had once been my mother's, but would now be my Catherine's, was already open, and I carried her in and set her on the bed. "You will never want of love beneath this roof, my Catherine. Beneath this roof, you are the queen of this estate and I assure you, you will always be cared for. Whomever you call for, whether it be me or Mama, we will always come to your side no matter how far away we are."
"You don't have to reassure me of anything, Richard. I've already deduced that from the kindness you and your mother have shown me." I smiled warmly at her, which she returned, and I pressed my lips to her brow the moment my mother entered the room.
"Richard, you have many letters here for you, one from your Aunt," she said, handing me the letters.
"Lord, help my soul," I replied as I took them.
"You don't think she'll be upset with your marriage, do you?"
"Mama, this is Lady Catherine we are speaking of. She irritated Darcy to no end about his marriage to Mrs. Darcy and I am certain she will hound me about my match as well." I flipped through the envelopes. "Nothing yet from the sanitorium?"
"Richard, it was only sent on Tuesday. It likely isn't to arrive until Tuesday next, maybe not even Wednesday," Catherine chirped from the bed.
"A man can hope, can he not?" I let out a sigh. "Thank you, Mama, I will read these in due time." I kissed her brown and embraced her, feeling her hand in my hair.
"I will go and write to your father about your arrival. Do you need anything else, my son?" Mama asked me once we had parted.
"Only our things brought up from the carriage," I replied.
"I will arrange it," she said, and she left us. I looked back down at the letters in my hand and sat on the end of the bed, my Catherine wrapping her arms around me.
"Your aunt does not approve of our marriage?" she asked me.
"My aunt, the Lady Catherine de Burgh, is a very prude woman who only mingles with high society, save for a few lucky parishioners who abide to her every wish. She treats them like slaves and rewards them with funds when they do something for her," I replied.
"Is this the woman that terrorised Lizzy when she and Mr. Darcy were married?"
"Indeed she is, and I am very pleased that she has not written to you. She likely wrote this before our marriage, or as soon as it was printed in the papers. She has spies everywhere, I'd swear on it."
"Why don't you read it, then, Richard?"
"Because I do not wish to distress you, my love. You are not well and the nastiness of this letter might upset you."
"My Richard, you know me. I can handle a scathing letter from a miserable old goat just as well as I can handle an illness." I smiled at her comment, then glanced at her over my shoulder.
"That you can, my strong girl." I kissed her cheek, then set the other letters aside and opened the one from my aunt.
"Dear Colonel Fitzwilliam," I began.
"She called you 'Colonel'?"
"She enjoys the title far too much." I looked at the letter in my hands again. "Dear Colonel Fitzwilliam, how dare you shame this family even further by marrying yet another country chit and related that ridiculous, impolite and improper Elizabeth Bennet? Ooh, Country chit, now that isn't very nice."
"Wouldn't be the first time I heard that one," Catherine replied, and I chuckled as I tried to find my place in the letter again.
"I refuse to refer to her as Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy because that would mean that I accept her as my niece, just as I will refuse to call your new bride Mrs. Fitzwilliam. Come now, Aunt, her name is only legally Mrs. Catherine Fitzwilliam!" Catherine and I both chuckled lightly. "I heard of her recent illness and I must declare that it is quite a shame that she didn't- My word! I have the right mind to write this woman a letter as scathing and horrible as this one in my very hands!"
"Oh, Richard-"
"My love, please don't allow the words of my scathing aunt chase you away. She is so set in her snobbish high societal ways and refuses to accept anything beneath that. You are not worthless or a country chit or anything else cruel this woman has to say."
"I don't base my opinions of you or the rest of your family on that miserable old goat, Richard. You should know this!"
"I do... Which is why I shall tear up this letter and throw it in the fire. I won't even give her the satisfaction of knowing I have read it." With that said, I stood and did exactly as I said, and then I returned to her side. "Get your rest, my love. We will be here a week at least, maybe even a fortnight, until that letter arrives. I do hope sincerely that they respond quickly."
My Catherine fell asleep rather quickly this evening and is sleeping peacefully, although every so often as I write this, I can hear her wheezing in her sleep. I hope against all hope that the sanitorium writes back soon. I will send for our local physician tomorrow and have him tend to Catherine, for she needs all of the help she can get.
Yours,
Colonel R. Fitzwilliam
{this letter arrived at Westfield on Saturday, 23 April 1814}
Monday, 18 April 1814
Dear Colonel R. Fitzwilliam,
We are pleased to have gotten your letter on this rainy day and can only assume that your wife, Mrs. Catherine Fitzwilliam, is faring well. We understand that you have been anxiously awaiting this letter for quite sometime and we are pleased to hear that you have moved your wife closer so that the journey may be less taxing. We are just as pleased to inform you that later this afternoon, a room will be opening up and we will be glad to accept your wife into it and work on her recovery together. You are very lucky, for not many have heard of us and there is yet to be a waiting list - after all, we have only been open since the summer of 1812.
We wish you a swift journey and we very eagerly await the arrival of your wife.
Yours,
Dr. William McKelvey
Saint Andrew's Sanitorium for the Ill
Dornoch, Highland, Scotland
Saturday, 23 April 1814
To Mr. and Mrs. Thomas and Martha Bennet,
The sanitorium has room for our Catherine! I received the letter earlier this afternoon, and no sooner could it have come! Our Catherine's condition has been worsening since Monday and she is only getting worse. Our things are being packed now and we will leave early tomorrow morning, at dawn. I will be accompanying her and living with her at the sanitorium and I will write daily on her condition. Our Catherine will get better and I will make sure of it.
Please keep her in your prayers, and I beg of you to pass on this information to the rest of our extended family. My mother knows and will be informing my side of the family. I thank you both for your continued support and I will have her home and safe before the end of the year.
Your son,
Colonel R. Fitzwilliam