I'm back from vacation! We took our son to Disneyland and Universal Studios in California, as well as a short cruise down to Baja California. Then, on the way back from LA, we had the flight from hell. There were tornados in Chicago, so we couldn't land there, so they flew us to St. Louis, where we were basically stranded for 36 hours. The airport there was super small, and there were four flights (over 1000 people) who had been rerouted from Chicago to St. Louis. There were no hotel rooms or rental cars because there was some sort of Christian convention in the area too. So everyone was sleeping in chairs in the terminal. It was truly dreadful, but on the plus side, I had a chance to observe lots of people which should help my writing.
Other than that, the vacation was wonderful.
I am working on a new version of the Missing Valet, which is set to come out six months before this book. School also starts up on Aug 16, which will slow my posting schedule. I will try to update at least once a week, but no promises. I will be teaching first grade, which is so different from the upper grades that I have taught before and I have no idea what the workload will be like.
"Make haste!" cried Mr. Collins. "Make haste. We must not be late."
There was still plenty of time until dinner, but Mr. Collins was the sort of man who felt that anything after ten minutes early was late. Thus, dressed in their finest dark-coloured clothing, the party from the parsonage walked the short distance to the manor house. Elizabeth did not have a dinner dress in black, but she had been assured by Charlotte that the brown dress she wore would be appropriate. Mr. Collins had tried to insist that she dye it black, but there would not have been enough time, even if Elizabeth had agreed.
They arrived with two minutes to spare at Rosings, but Mr. Collins was still eloquent in his apologies for tardiness as they were ushered into the drawing-room. Mr. Ross and another gentleman were there along with the inmates of Rosings. Introductions were made, and the other gentleman was Lady Catherine's solicitor, Mr. Yardley. He was a tall, pale man of perhaps forty. His slightly upturned nose gave him a perpetually disgusted look, as though he were always catching a whiff of something foul. He had a puppet-like physique, with arms and legs that seemed too thin for his body and a plump midsection. His hair was neatly arranged but thinning. His formal address couldn't mask the unpleasant manner that added discomfort to the already uncomfortable conversation. Such a man as he should not be the sort of solicitor that saw to wills. He belonged in a courtroom, not among the bereaved.
As the conversation centred around the will and the provisions therein, Elizabeth was able to allow her attentions to wander. She watched the various family members as they talked. Clearly, Lord Melbridge was in charge of the discussion, asking questions of the solicitor and making demands when he felt things were not right. He was rather like Lady Catherine in his expectation that he would be obeyed, but he was not so abrupt in his address to others. Indeed, he showed very little interest in the other guests except when one was particularly concerned in the matter at hand.
"But why should she do that?" Lord Melbridge asked, drawing Elizabeth's attention back to the conversation going on around her.
"She does not specify," said Mr. Yardley. "She only said that Mr. Collins was to have a thousand pounds from her personal account."
As the funds from her personal account were hers to distribute as she saw fit, Lady Catherine's brother could have no cause to complain. There were other, smaller bequests to her lady's maid and to various of the de Bourgh family members, but most was left to Colonel Fitzwilliam. Both gentlemen were taken aback by the generosity of Lady Catherine towards them. Mr. Collins extended long and exaggerated thanks to Miss de Bourgh, much to Elizabeth's amusement. Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had received twenty times the portion of Mr. Collins, sat in stunned astonishment for some time, before whispering quietly "But she did not even like me."
"Nonsense," was Lady Melbridge's response. She was one of the only people who had been able to hear her nephew's utterance. "Of course she liked you! And besides, it only makes sense that she should leave it to you. After all, the girls all have their dowries. Darcy has enough money. Andy will inherit the earldom and Anne already has plenty of income from Rosings."
While the discussion turned to the funeral and burial, Colonel Fitzwilliam remained largely silent, considering how so much tragedy had brought him good fortune. He could sell out of the army and live on the income generated from the legacy Lady Catherine had left him. It would be a modest income, but enough to live without being under the thumb of his father or brother all his life. A thousand pounds a year also meant that he did not have to marry for wealth, provided he did not mind living with some economies. Provided he could find a wife who did not mind a small income, that was. He did not imagine such a task to be impossible. A lady such as Miss Elizabeth would not mind so much a small income if she had love. Not Miss Elizabeth herself, of course. She was spoken for by Darcy, even if nothing was yet official.
"I shall be departing before the funeral then," said Elizabeth, drawing the attention of everyone.
"So soon?" asked Lady Melbridge. "I had hoped to come to know you better." She shot a conspicuous glance at Darcy, who looked down at his food.
"Indeed, your ladyship. I sent an express yesterday to my uncle, and I have received a reply. He does not believe it suitable for me to remain much longer, given the circumstances," she answered.
"Nonsense," said Lady Melbridge. "You should be a great comfort. It is always fine to have people about when one is grieving. I have always felt the morning practices of shutting oneself away without any company very harmful. I shall write to your uncle if you will give me his direction. You must stay, at least until after the funeral. Why, even thereafter, you must. It shall be a great comfort to Anne to have friends."
Miss de Bourgh agreed readily to all that her aunt said. She did not actually feel that she needed Miss Elizabeth to remain, but she would not send her away when Darcy was so close to achieving his happiness.
"I cannot intrude on the Collinses so long as that, your ladyship," Elizabeth said, in order to remind the countess that it was not her place to invite Elizabeth to stay in someone else's home. She wondered if all lords and ladies were so high-handed or if this was only a trait common to Mr. Darcy's relations.
"You know that you are always welcome, Eliza," said Charlotte with a smile. "It is no intrusion."
Mr. Collins agreed, proclaiming that he was always glad to be of service by hosting his dear cousin.
"Besides," said Miss de Bourgh, "if you feel it would be too much of an imposition on Mr. and Mrs. Collins, you can come to Rosings. It is suitable for a house in mourning to have close friends to come to stay, so long as it does not become a house party. I would be glad for such company."
"If my uncle agrees, then I have no argument," said Elizabeth.
"And if you will remain until the fifteenth of the month, I can take you as far as London," said the countess. "We intend to go thither, for his lordship has some business that must be seen to."
Lord Melbridge nodded in agreement, before turning back to his conversation with his sons and Mr. Darcy. They talked about Lady Catherine's taste for gaudy and unattractive furnishings, pondering what could be sold and what could be preserved or altered to be less hideous.
"Personally," said Lord Melbridge, "I am of a mind to simply invite Mr. Gardiner here and let him take what he will back to his warehouses. It all can't fit in a carriage, so we might have to give him multiple wagons to transport everything."
"He still would need to make several trips, father," said Lord Barlow. "So much of the furniture is large. Why, just the tête-à-tête chaise in the informal drawing-room would take up much of one wagon."
"You know Mr. Gardiner?" asked Elizabeth. "Mr. Gardiner of Gracechurch Street?"
"Indeed," said Lord Melbridge. "I assume from your words that you know him as well?"
"He is my uncle, my lord. The brother of my mother."
"Well!" exclaimed Lord Melbridge in surprise. He had been rather worried when Richard had told him that Darcy had seemingly fallen for a lady with relations in trade. A social climber intent on Darcy's fortune and connexions was not who he wished for his nephew to marry. But he had known Mr. Gardiner for some years. A more gentlemanly tradesman could not be found. He realised after a moment that he had not said more, and articulated his esteem for Mr. Gardiner as well as Mrs. Gardiner. "And the children are fine young ones as well. Young Edward, in particular, is very like his father. The girls I have not met often, but they seem well behaved. There is another son as well, is there not?"
"Indeed. A boy of two named Thomas. He has not yet been breeched, so I am not surprised that you have not met him."
"Ah, yes. I recall now. Such a fine child, Gardiner was telling me. Looks more like his mother, apparently."
"Indeed. Thomas is fair, but then my mother — his aunt, of course — is also very fair, where the other children are all dark like their father."
Since there were now two purposes in writing to Mr. Gardiner, Lord Melbridge would do so on the morrow. Mr. Gardiner could come and go with wagons for the goods, and either leave his niece until the Melbridges went to town on the fifteenth, or take her back with him.
"Miss Elizabeth, Mis Lucas, I do so hope you can remain a long while," said Miss Darcy later in the evening. They were getting along together very well. Elizabeth found the child delightful, once she was made comfortable enough to speak more than a few sentences. "I love my family very much, but a change in one's typical company is always welcome."
Elizabeth thanked Miss Darcy for the compliment and returned the gesture by telling Miss Darcy how much she enjoyed being in her company and that of the rest of those at Rosings. Miss Lucas did likewise. Elizabeth wondered if Miss Darcy was often lonely, given how shy she was at first meeting and her position in society. It could not be easy, always wondering if the young ladies who said they were your friends were only after your connexions or wishing to make a match with your brother. With this last thought, she felt rather guilty, for was she not the same? She was interested in Mr. Darcy and saw Miss Darcy as her potential sister, if she was correct in hoping that Mr. Darcy might care for her. Then again, she told herself, she would have been honoured to be considered Miss Darcy's friend regardless of if she had a brother or not, so she could not chastise herself too harshly.
A short while later, Lord and Lady Melbridge, Mr. Collins, Mr. Yardley and Miss de Bourgh all ensconced themselves in Miss de Bourgh's private sitting room to discuss arrangements further. Miss de Bourgh later told Darcy that her mother's requests were in some ways outrageous. Several demands were made that were impossible. If they waited, for example, to be able to have pineapple at the tea after the funeral, it would be a fortnight before the funeral would take place and thus the body would be in a dreadful state of decay.
"I also do not think it is necessary to hire a famous sculptor to create her headstone. She will simply have to have a headstone from the mason in Hunsford. She is lucky to not be buried at a crossroads, so I do not feel bad."
"I meant to ask, but could not in front of the others — Has the doctor's word been accepted? There is not to be an inquest?"
"There will be no inquest. Mr. Ross found some obscure paper that documented bruising caused by blood clots as symptomatic of a condition that causes apoplexies and aneurysms. He has made that diagnosis, if anyone decides to take issue. I think the magistrate might suspect what happened, but he is not making an issue of it."
"Sir Philip is very kind. I cannot imagine him wishing to bring such scandal down upon you," said Darcy of the magistrate of the area.
"I am thankful. Then too, I am so very thankful for Mr. Ross's compassion. If he was not willing to put his professional dignity at stake, we would not be able to play this in such a way. I am forever indebted to him." Miss de Bourgh had to blink back tears, but Darcy pretended not to notice.
"I do not know if I have given you my condolences yet," said Darcy, taking his cousin's hand. "With all that happened, there has hardly been time. Are you well? Do you need anything?"
"I am well," Anne said. "I think I am, anyhow. I hardly know. It is difficult. She was my mother, but I had not the feelings for her that one would normally have for a mother. She made my life quite difficult, and in some ways, I am glad she is gone. I feel dreadful for feeling that way."
Darcy squeezed her hand in his. "I do not think it is wrong to have any kind of feeling towards your mother now. Your relationship with her was your own. Others cannot understand, because they are not in your place. My feelings towards Lady Catherine are mixed as well, but she was not my mother. I did not have to live with her."
The two cousins sat together in silence for some time until Richard joined them where they were in the library. He was ordering them to bed at the request of his mother, for it would not do for them to be overtired.
"I must take Mrs. Jenkinson's place keeping vigil over mother's body soon," said Anne.
Richard shook his head. "I shall take her place, then Mrs. Annesley will relieve me. You can take your shift during the day. You are weak still, and should not be remaining awake so late. Besides, what should happen if you fall again and are the only one awake?"
Anne had to concede his point and went off to bed.
"Shall I stay with you?" asked Darcy.
"No, I am well on my own. I have had one of the servants order me a large pot of coffee and I have a good supply of reading material. I shall be content to sit. It shall be not much different from keeping watch when I was in the regiment."
Darcy permitted this to be so and took himself off as well. Richard made his way to the main drawing-room, where Lady Catherine's body had been placed in a coffin, awaiting burial. He looked down at her, marvelling at how she could appear so peaceful despite having met such an unfortunate end. He said a silent prayer for his aunt's soul. Despite the church's position on suicide, he thought that Lady Catherine was not in her right mind towards the end of her life, and that God would be merciful and forgiving. He had learnt once that the mind was an organ, just as the heart and the kidneys were. There was no scandal when one died of a disease of these organs, but the disease of the mind held such terrible stigma. It was not fair, surely. God could not be so unjust as to send a sick woman to hell for her illness.
Wishing to have no more of these melancholy thoughts, he sat down and began to make himself a cup of coffee and selected a novel from the stack of books.