Chapter 13

Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth had not paid attention to any correspondence in the days following their wedding. Expecting some sort of reaction from Longbourn, they decided to wait until the day of the ball to open the letters they had received. Fitzwilliam had also received a number of notes of congratulations following the announcement of their marriage in the paper, all forwarded from Darcy House since the couple's address in town was known by only a few.

Sitting together in their sitting room, they began to look through the letters that had accumulated, dividing them into piles based on their direction. By mutual consent, they set aside the letters from Longbourn for last, choosing instead to read the letters of congratulations. There were a number of those — mostly from friends and colleagues of Fitzwilliam, as well as some from family friends of the Darcy and Fitzwilliam families. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, sister of Lady Anne and the Earl of Matlock had also written her terse congratulations. That lady was pleased to learn that at least one of the nephews had finally 'done their duty to the family and married' and reminded him of her desire to see her daughter married to his brother. She did offer a mild criticism of Fitzwilliam for his choice of bride since 'surely he could have married better' but had been pleased to learn that she had a reasonable dowry. This news she had obviously received from her brother, and Fitzwilliam merely rolled his eyes as he read the note to his wife.

"With luck, we will not have to encounter her very often, as she rarely leaves her estate in Kent. She had attempted to convince my mother George is destined for her daughter, Anne, who is rather sickly. Anne is a nice enough girl, although my mother doubts she is capable of providing Pemberley with an heir. My uncle has suggested her as a potential bride for George as well since 'uniting two such great estates as Pemberley and Rosings' would surely convince the Regent to restore the marquessate. My uncle is just as determined to see that done as is George." Fitzwilliam said to her after reading his aunt's letter.

"I do hope to at least meet her, Fitzwilliam, for she seems to be something of a character. Some might be offended by her letter, but I confess, I am diverted by her 'condescension' in writing as she phrases it," Elizabeth laughed. "What is this about a cradle betrothal?"

Fitzwilliam rolled his eyes and groaned. "If one were to believe her, she and my mother made an arrangement when Anne and I were born within a few years of each other. My mother has told her several times since that she desired her children to marry as they would and hoped they would marry for love. I recall a rather heated conversation not long after my father passed, where Lady Anne flatly refused to require either me or my brother to marry Anne and that nothing either had said while their children were in their cradles was binding. My mother loves her as they are sisters but prefers to limit the amount of time they are in company."

Several school friends of Fitzwilliams and colleagues from the bar wrote to congratulate the couple, and several issued invitations. Elizabeth set those aside to write refusals to since they would be leaving town in a few days and would be unavailable for the invitations.

Finally, there was no more opportunity to delay reading the letters from Longbourn. Elizabeth sighed and snuggled into her husband's embrace before she began to read these. "We might as well get it over with, my love," Fitzwilliam said after she continued to sit there staring at the letters.

"You are right, of course, but I cannot help but imagine the worst. These letters could contain acceptance, but more likely, they contain my mother's berating me for not coming home to marry, Jane's insincere congratulations, and my father's mocking. Mary's letter will be sincere, and I see that neither Kitty nor Lydia bothered, although they may have said something that would be included in a letter from one of them, but as neither is particularly diligent in writing, I am not surprised at their lack."

"We should read Mary's first, as you feel certain of what that letter will contain," he suggested.

"Or we save it for last, so we can wipe away the other comments from our minds," Elizabeth countered. "Let us begin with Mama's, as it will no doubt be the most mortifying, and then we can read Jane's. I think Papa's will be the least likely to make me blush. Can I confess how happy I am that I have persuaded you to marry me without having met the rest of my family, as the Gardiners are by far my best relations?"

"I love you, Elizabeth, and regardless of what your family may be like, it will not change that," he told her. "Perhaps it is to our advantage that the estate I have inherited is so far away from your family seat?"

She laughed as he had intended with his statement. "Yes, it is indeed a fortunate circumstance. Equally fortunate is that we met in London and that you were inclined to think well of me when we met. Had you met my mother first, you may have found me merely tolerable and my family completely intolerable."

"Dearest, you should not say such things," he whispered, kissing her temple. "Now, let us stop speculating and read what your family says about our nuptials."

With another sigh, Elizabeth did as he suggested and broke the seal on the letter from her mother. Its contents did not disappoint:

Elizabeth Bennet,

How dare you marry from London without your mother present! Even worse, you did not inform me until after the event had taken place, so I did not have the chance to tell my neighbours before they learned it for themselves. Although your father apparently was told of the event before it happened, I did not know until I received your letter, and that was on the same day the announcement appeared in the Times. All of my neighbours already knew of the wedding and expressed surprise at my not mentioning it before now. You mortified me before all my neighbours as I had no opportunity to speak of the event before it happened.

I cannot imagine that your wedding was very fashionable, but as you married a barrister, I suppose that is quite alright. You also denied me the opportunity to help a daughter obtain her trousseau, nor can your marriage aid your sisters in meeting wealthy men. I suppose you considered only yourself when you planned your wedding, but I would expect little else from my most selfish daughter.

At least you will visit Longbourn, though I do not understand why you will not stay longer than a few hours. You and your husband should stay for a sennight at least so that all our neighbours might celebrate the match you have made and meet your husband. Perhaps you are ashamed of him, or he is so ill-favoured you do not want your neighbours to meet him. Either way, I insist you remain at Longbourn a sennight, and you should come and see us as soon as may be. You will obey me in this, Lizzy, as I will not permit you to defy me.

Your mother,

Frannie Bennet

Elizabeth finished reading the letter out loud to her husband and merely hung her head for a moment before he kissed her temple. "That was not so bad, was it?" he whispered.

She laughed at his understatement. "Perhaps not so bad, but I hope you know that she is wrong in my every particular. I am not ashamed of you, and you are clearly not ill-favoured," — she blushed at that, as did he — "but nor do I desire to have you dragged around to meet all our neighbours in Hertfordshire so Mama might parade around her married daughter. We will not do as she demands and will remain at Longbourn long enough for you to meet my family, and then we will begin our journey north."

"I would not mind staying longer, love, if you prefer it," he answered.

"I do not prefer it," Elizabeth insisted. "Staying at Longbourn for longer than a few hours is more than I can stand at present. Do not be persuaded by Mama's demands. She does not deserve such attention from us, and I do not want to start by giving in to her demands immediately. I am married now, and by necessity, our relationship must change. I no longer owe her my loyalty."

Before he could say more, she opened Jane's letter and began reading what it contained. As she expected, it was full of insincere congratulations. She laughed in particular at one paragraph, which she read out loud to her new husband:

I congratulate you on managing to ensnare a husband, although I imagine you will outlive him by a great deal, and I can only hope that your marriage settlement provides well for your future. You should not expect our parents to continue to support you, as you have chosen to marry away from home. Surely such an action has made you happy, since, as usual, you have thought only of what benefits you. I will continue to attempt to placate Mama, as she is most upset at the nature of your marriage. Should I also congratulate you on the child to follow? As Mama has frequently said, 'The first child can come any time after the marriage, all the rest take nine months.' Do you have other news for us, my dear sister?

"Before I left for London, I would have never imagined my elder sister saying such a thing to me, but after Mary's letter when they mocked the very idea of my having a suitor, my eyes have been more opened to her true character," Elizabeth said quietly. "I believe by not telling her of my intentions ahead of time, she had been more open in revealing her true feelings toward me."

Once again, Fitzwilliam reassured his wife before she opened the letter from her father. His letter was short and offered his congratulations on the match but little else. He did not seem distressed at the fact that she had married without his permission and had left his care. In truth, his letter seemed relieved that Elizabeth had not yet requested the 100 per annum she was entitled to, as this would free up funds for the rest of his family. Elizabeth expressed to her husband that he would likely spend the funds to purchase additional books for his library. It was for that reason that she was inclined to request it again, for the simple fact that doing so would require her father to be at least a little less indolent.

However, she had already told her husband she did not want the funds and was well provided for. "But you could arrange for those funds to provide aid for Longbourn's tenants, should you wish to do so. I am certain that we could find a way to make that happen," Fitzwilliam offered.

"I will consider it," she replied. "My Uncle Phillips is the solicitor on Meryton, and surely he would be able to help me establish a fund to ensure the tenants have what they need. Our housekeeper, or rather Longbourn's housekeeper, could help by dispensing the funds as needed."

"Does your father not employ a steward?" Fitzwilliam asked.

"He does, but he already has so many responsibilities. Though, perhaps, he could take ten pounds a year for himself as payment for his managing the funds," Elizabeth suggested.

"We could speak to him and the housekeeper to see what they think would work best before speaking to your uncle to make the arrangements. If it would make it easier, we could spend one night at Longbourn, which might placate your mother while allowing us to make the arrangements we need to do," he replied.

Elizabeth sighed. "We should not have to solve the problems of my father's estate while we are on our honeymoon, but I do hate to leave the tenants of Longbourn without any assistance. Mary is already on her way to London — you will meet her at the ball tonight, although she will not dance and will spend most of the evening in company with your sister. Without either of us at Longbourn, no one else in my family will do anything for the tenants. The steward has always done what he could, but this is the first time that neither Mary nor I will be at home to ensure they have what they need."

Fitzwilliam pulled Elizabeth more tightly into his embrace. "We will do what we can, love. And I am certain you will care for the tenants on our estate just as assiduously. Now, we have spent quite enough time this morning on correspondence, and you have one last letter to read. Finish it, my dear, and then we will retire to rest until it is time to prepare for the ball."

"Fitzwilliam," Elizabeth teased her husband, "since we have married, every time you suggest we rest, little rest occurs. Do you have a different definition of 'rest' than I do?"

He laughed and whispered a rather suggestive definition of rest into her ear. She quickly read through Mary's letter, sharing a few lines with her husband before he pulled her upstairs to their chambers to enact his suggestion.


It was the height of the season, and although Fitzwilliam's inheritance was not yet known in the ton, the fact that the younger Darcy son had married and that Lady Anne was hosting a ball brought a number of guests to Darcy House that night. Since it was in their honour, Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth had to endure standing in the receiving line, and before it was over, Elizabeth's dance card was nearly full. Fortunately, Fitzwilliam had already claimed the first, supper, and last dances, defying propriety by dancing with his wife. His brother and cousin had also claimed a dance with her, as well as both of their uncles, leaving only a few spots open. These were mostly filled by Fitzwilliam's friends, meaning that Elizabeth had few dances with those who were truly strangers.

The only dance that Fitzwilliam was genuinely uneasy about was her dance with his father's godson, who was in town for some unknown reason. Somehow he had managed to approach Elizabeth when she was not with Fitzwilliam and request her only remaining set. George Wickham had maintained a sort of friendship with the elder Darcy son as children, but Fitzwilliam had never liked the man or boy. The two had been in school together when the patriarch had sent young Wickham to school as a favour to his father, who had been well respected by the entire Darcy family. George Wickham was a profligate and a rake, and where George Darcy merely played at these habits, Wickham had made quite the career of them.

Fitzwilliam and Wickham had shared a room their first year at Cambridge, and Wickham's habits were so bad, with women coming into their rooms at all hours and his constantly violating the rules of the dorms, that Fitzwilliam outright refused to room with him in subsequent years. His father had questioned this declaration, and when Fitzwilliam had explained his objections, the elder Darcy believed that 'young Wickham' was merely 'sowing his wild oats' and would settle down soon enough.

Fitzwilliam and his father had never had another conversation about the man, and the following year, Fitzwilliam had used his own allowance to clear up debts around their school at the end of each term. He did write to his father of these debts, and his father had replaced the funds, but Fitzwilliam was unaware if his father had ever said anything about the behaviour to either Wickham. However, the following year, Wickham's debts had been cleared up without Fitzwilliam's influence, leaving him to wonder if his father had arranged to cover any debts he acquired or if he had been commanded to stop such behaviours.

Elizabeth enjoyed the ball, especially the dances with her husband. The only dark spot in her evening had been the dance with Mr Wickham, who requested a dance on the claim of a lifelong friendship with her husband. However, he had been overly bold and flirtatious during the dance, and had, on several occasions during the dance, allowed his hand to linger too long on hers or on her waist. He made her feel uncomfortable with these touches and even, on occasion, his words. Elizabeth knew she had been sheltered much of her life, and while being married had made her more aware of certain things, Mr Wickham's words seemed to be almost lewd at times and certainly improper.

When the dance concluded, it was late in the evening, and only a couple of dances remained. Mr Wickham deliberately directed Elizabeth away from her husband and toward the open balcony doors in the ballroom. Fitzwilliam saw this and began moving that way, eager to intercept his wife, as he did not trust Wickham whatsoever. Richard noted this as well, as since he also had reason to distrust Wickham, began to move in the same direction, and he was closer to the pair when they left the dance floor, arrived sooner than her husband and overheard her protests.

"Mr Wickham, where are you taking me?" she had whispered furiously at her escort. "My husband is in the opposite direction. Please unhand me."

"No, my dear Elizabeth, you are overheated and do not know what you are saying," Wickham said to Elizabeth. "Allow me to escort you to the balcony so that I might be of aid to you."

"I do not need your assistance, Mr Wickham. If I appear overheated, as you say, it is because I am angry at being manhandled by someone who refuses to release me, despite my request for him to do so. I do not know why you believe you have the right to address me as informally as you have done, but I am Mrs Darcy and not your dear anything. Release me!"

Richard arrived first and had heard quite enough. He stopped Wickham with a heavy hand to his shoulder and forced him to release Elizabeth. "Wickham, are you attempting to abscond from the ball with my cousin's wife? I have heard her ask twice to release you, and I would have thought, by now, you would have learned some manners. I can assure you if you need another lesson, my cousin and I would be happy to provide you with one." He pointed at Fitzwilliam, who was rapidly approaching the group, and at George Darcy, who was not far behind him.

George Darcy spoke first. "Why did my new sister look so uncomfortable during your dance with her, Wickham? I had once believed you to be a friend to my family, but your actions of late have made me wonder. I am uncertain how you even came to be at this ball since everyone knows you are not a friend to my family and have not been since my father's death."

"I, uh, I received an invitation," Wickham stuttered, his bravado fading in light of the four people glaring at him.

"I am certain you did not," said Lady Anne as she approached the group. "I had believed George invited you since I knew you were not on my list, but if he was unaware of your attendance tonight, then surely that is not the case. Will you leave willingly, or will you require a footman to escort you out?"

Fitzwilliam was not content to allow the others to be the only ones to speak. "Never touch my wife again, Wickham. I am not certain what you intended in dragging my wife toward the balcony, but you would have not succeeded. Too many people were watching you to allow you to get away with it."

Wickham was not truly afraid of Fitzwilliam, but the Major's glare, combined with his hand slowly caressing the hilt of his sword, made him realise it was in his best interest to flee. He left the ball on his own power, but one of the footmen who followed him heard him mutter under his breath about one day getting the best of the Darcys and Matlocks. This was duly reported to the master of the house, which was shared with his cousin and brother.

The ball wrapped up not long after, and Elizabeth enjoyed the opportunity to dance the last with her husband. Her new mother had called for a waltz in honour of the newlyweds, and they thoroughly enjoyed the opportunity to touch and hold each other tightly in plain sight. If they danced a little too closely, it was forgiven since they had only been wed a week and could be expected to thumb their noses at propriety just a little.