Hullo my dears! I am back again at last with another chapter. In this one, ODG meets with family she has not seen for a year and makes an inevitable decision.
But before we get into the fun part of this post, there is a small matter I feel I must address... It's fine with me if you don't like my work — I'm well aware that I won't please everyone. I know that I committed a cardinal JAFF sin when I decided to write a story where ODC married other people before getting together, but to insult characters by calling them names like "haggy", "slut", "bitch" and "whore" is beyond the pale. It is rude in the extreme, and it is frankly immature. If you do not like my story, stop reading it — and definitely stop posting offensive remarks.
The above is not aimed at those of you who said during the writing of volume one that they liked "a bitchy Jane" — that's an entirely different context. I'm talking about a person who has the audacity to, among other things, call Henry a "haggy old man", Darcy's first wife a "whore" because she's not Elizabeth, and who actually referred to Clara as a "fucking whore" ... before telling me to "fuck off." During the writing of volume one I ignored the foolishness, but when you call a child a whore just because her mother is someone other than who you think should be with Darcy, that's crossing a line.
Anyhoo, let's move on to the good stuff.
Chapter Five
Three carriages.
That was the number required to convey two mothers, their combined seven children, one governess, two nurse maids, a valet and two lady's maids—not to mention nine coachmen—from Stashwick to London. Even after ten years of being one of the wealthiest women in the kingdom, Elizabeth had shaken her head at the expense and extensive planning required to make such a journey possible.
On Monday she had sent a letter by express to the butler at Stashwick House, informing him of her plan to come to town for some weeks on Wednesday. The rest of Monday and most of Tuesday was filled with planning, packing, and leave-taking. Although she and the children had not left Stashwick Parish for a year, they had not secluded themselves on the castle grounds the entire time. After about two months, she had begun accepting and making calls to local residents, and the elder three of her children had, by degrees, joined her in making calls to play with other children. Thus, they visited with many of the local residents to inform them that the family would be in London for an indeterminate period of time.
Elizabeth was thankful that the distance from Stashwick Castle to London was same as that from Longbourn; it meant they would be no more than six hours on the road if the weather remained clear. The less time they spent travelling with the youngest children—her own Margaret and Mary's Sarah—the better. Both girls were under five years of age, and both were unfortunately prone to tantrums when bored. This is where the meticulous planning of the mothers proved valuable: toys were provided, and the older children were encouraged to entertain their younger siblings by reading to them.
The carriage conveying the personal attendants and the nursemaids left Stashwick at eight-thirty on Wednesday morning, and the two carrying the families departed after breakfast two hours later. Fortune remained with the ladies as the weather did remain clear, though clouds were in the sky by the time they reached the outer environs of London. Elizabeth was looking forward to refreshing herself and enjoying a nice cup of tea when they reached Stashwick House.
The sisters and their children arrived at their destination at a quarter to four in the afternoon, and were met in the entry hall by Simmonds, the longtime butler; Hiral Bakshi, the housekeeper; and Mary and Elizabeth's lady's maids. Also among those waiting to welcome their mistress and her family was Mr. Owens, who had served as Henry's valet for nearly forty years before the marquess had died. He was a surprisingly fit and healthy man of sixty years, and rather than retiring after his master's death, he had asked Elizabeth of he might continue in her service. When asked what position he could fill on her staff, he had replied, in a somber tone,
"I have served the Marquess of Stashwick from the time I was one-and-twenty, my lady. He was one of the very best of men. I should be very much obliged if you would permit me to serve his sons for as long as I am able."
Knowing how close Owens had been with Henry—she believed them to have become true friends over the years—Elizabeth had been unable to deny his request, despite knowing that a boy was usually not granted his own attendant until his teen years. In truth, it had been rather comforting to still see him about the castle; after he saw to it that both Harry and Thomas were properly dressed for the day, he took care of their clothing and personal items as he had done for their father. Owens had continued in his duty of collecting the post every day, and could be counted on to attend Kiran, Elizabeth's maid, when she ran errands for their mistress.
The boys—including Mary's son Bennet—were sent to their room with Owens while Isabella, Margaret, and Mary's daughters were led to theirs by the nursemaids. Elizabeth followed behind after instructing Mrs. Bakshi to have tea prepared for everyone. Her pace was slow and deliberate, for a part of her was dreading going up to the first floor. She'd not set foot in this house since Henry had passed in it a year ago, and just the thought of stepping into the room where he had died had gripped her heart in a fist of anxiety.
Mary, who walked beside her, seemed to sense her distress and reached in silence to take her hand. When they reached the closed door of the bedroom that had been her husband's, Elizabeth froze and began to draw quick, shallow breaths. She had told Mary that she would put her up in her old bedchamber while she slept in Henry's room, but now she was not certain she could even open the door.
"Lizzy, I will take my brother's room if you cannot bear to go in," Mary said softly.
For a moment, Elizabeth was tempted to take her up on the offer—but then she heard Henry's voice in her head, reciting her personal maxim: Your courage always rises with every attempt to intimidate you.
"No," she managed at last. "No, I must do this. Death was not the only visitor to this room—there was also life. My husband and I shared our love here many, many times. In fact, I do believe the twins may have been conceived in this room."
With that, she let go of Mary's hand and reached shakily for the knob, turning it slowly and then pushing the door open. The maids had done their work—the room had been aired and the surfaces were clear of dust. No doubt Kiran had already seen to it that her trunks were unpacked and her gowns already hanging in the dressing room.
She walked with deliberate steps toward the bed, grateful that the linens the maids had put on it were of a different color than those that had been there a year ago. Closing her eyes, she forced a deep breath into her lungs and laid a hand upon the pillow.
Your courage always rises, Elizabeth, she thought again.
"Lizzy? Are you well?"
Releasing her breath slowly, Elizabeth nodded. "I shall be well, Mary. Thank you for your concern." She turned around to face her sister, then added, "Let us go to the dressing room that we may put on fresh gowns and join our children for tea."
Mary smiled. "A splendid idea, sister."
Half an hour later, they sat in the drawing room with the children drinking tea and nibbling on biscuits; the little ones were warned not to eat too many, as dinner would be served at six.
"When, do you think, we ought to notify our relations we are in town?" Mary asked.
"I expect we can send notes off this evening, or perhaps we should take tonight for ourselves and tell everyone we are here tomorrow," replied Elizabeth.
"I think I like your second notion the best," said Mary. "It will give us time to settle in and acclimate ourselves to soon being besieged by sisters, nieces, and nephews."
Elizabeth smiled. "Not to mention our dear brothers, Adelaide's family, Diana's family, and the families of Henry's nephews. And I do not doubt that once Frances learns I have removed from my hermitage at the castle, she will insist I come to dinner."
Mary snorted softly. "A large family dinner, knowing Lady Disley."
With a soft laugh, Elizabeth nodded her agreement. "I do not doubt it. My dear sister-by-marriage does love her family dinners."
-...-
Thursday morning saw footmen departing from Stashwick House with letters to be conveyed to various family members—Elizabeth wrote to her relations on her husband's side of the family, and Mary wrote to their sisters.
They had not long to wait for replies—each person to whom they had written responded with expressions of joy that they had come and promises to call. The first to arrive after breakfast was Cate's family. The fourth Bennet daughter had married very well—her husband was Henry's youngest nephew. Given the Christian name Edward at birth, like his father, after his parents had been convicted of multiple attempts to murder his uncle and were executed for their crimes, he had dropped his first name and started using his second. Stephen was the name of his mother's brother, a man he had looked up to and admired as much as he had his uncle the marquess. He and Cate had three boys between them, much to the delight—and relief—of Mrs. Bennet. Cate, though very proud of having produced more than one son for her husband, held out hope of having at least one daughter.
There was a bustle of noise when the family came in, with the children happily greeting each other and chatting without pause. Elizabeth, Mary, and Cate embraced each other warmly, and to her surprise, Elizabeth also received an embrace from Stephen, who did not often show affection to anyone but his wife and children. But then, he and Henry had been close.
"It is good to see you looking well, Elizabeth," said he when he had stood back.
Elizabeth smiled. "Thank you, Stephen. You and Cate are also looking very well."
It was Cate's turn to smile. After marrying into the same wealthy and nobly connected family as Elizabeth, she had followed her new husband's example and changed her identity—"Kitty" was no longer considered sophisticated enough a nickname for the wife of a marquess's grandson, so she had chosen to go by Cate. Elizabeth knew that Stephen sometimes called her Catie.
"Thank you, Lizzy," Cate was saying. "We are so very happy you came to London. I… I know it must seem far too soon for you to be out and about, and I certainly won't push you to go to dinners and parties as I know you won't want that."
Elizabeth felt her chest tighten and she drew a breath to help dispel the pressure, then smiled her gratitude. "And I appreciate so much that you understand my feelings, Cate. But as Mary and Robert pointed out to me, I cannot hide myself away forever. The children need to socialize, even if I have no wish to."
The adults then moved to sit on the sofas while the children played across the room. "Is Nathaniel doing well after that cold he had?" Elizabeth asked.
Relief came over the faces of both Cate and Stephen. Nathaniel was their youngest boy, who was not yet two years old, and he had recently had a cold which had given him a fever for a few days and produced a lot of runny noses and coughing. Cate's letters during the illness had been full of her worry.
"Oh, he is, yes!" cried Cate softly. "The apothecary is very pleased with his progress. We would have brought him with us, as it's been a long while since you've seen him, but—"
"But we did not wish to risk exposing him to the cold air when he is only recently recovered," Stephen finished for her.
"I understand entirely," said Elizabeth. "Mary and I can wait to see him when we return your call. I am just so relieved to hear he is doing better."
"I agree with Elizabeth," chimed in Mary. "That you thought to bring little Stephen and Alexander so that our children might visit with their cousins is really very kind of you, when children do not generally make morning calls."
"Cate's mention of dinners and parties a moment ago brought to mind," Stephen began, "that my aunt Lady Disley has arranged a large family dinner for tomorrow. Do you think you will attend?"
Elizabeth exchanged a glance with Mary, and the sisters grinned. "I did not even know until this moment that she was giving a dinner party. The note I received in response to my own made no mention of it, though I suspect she will herself when she comes to see me."
"Will you come, Lizzy?" asked Cate. "I know I said I would not press you, but if it brings you any comfort, Stephen and I will be there."
"My cousin Theodore has been invited as well, and I know the two of you are close," added Stephen.
Elizabeth chuckled. "Of course, Theo will be there—he wouldn't dare turn his own mother down."
Stephen chuckled. "No, he would not. For all his bravery on the continent during the war, he has little when it comes to facing down the formidable force that is the countess."
The Faulkners remained a full half hour before taking their leave, though their departure was delayed some minutes by the arrival of the Bingleys, with whom Cate and Stephen and their children exchanged greetings before departing. Jane and Charles had brought their daughter Julia with them but had left little Charles at their home on Berkeley Street with his nurse.
"Oh, Lizzy," said Jane as the sisters embraced. "It is so good to see you. How are you feeling? I did not think you would come to town so soon—Henry has been gone but a year, and I know how deeply you felt for him."
Elizabeth smiled somberly. "I was planning on staying in Stashwick at least another full year, to own the truth, but was reminded that I have responsibilities to my rank and my children. Had that not been the case, I daresay I might have remained holed away in that drafty old stone building for the rest of my days."
"Well, we are very pleased you did not," said Charles with a smile. "London is a brighter city with you in it."
"Flattery always did become you, brother Charles," said Elizabeth with a grin, "but I daresay you should save it all for your wife—Jane is still five times as pretty as the rest of us."
Jane blushed prettily as Charles grinned and bent his head to kiss her cheek. "She is as much my angel today as she was the day we met."
A squeal from one of the children drew their attention; after seeing that no one was hurt or squabbling, the three sisters and the gentleman looked back to one another. They talked of the progress of their children in growth and learning, and Jane relayed that her family had stayed a week at Longbourn on their way to London.
"Oh, Lizzy, you really must go and see how our little brother has grown!" cried Jane. "John is such a handsome boy. Mamma and Papa dote on him, as does Aunt Gardiner and Lydia."
"Does he interact much with our cousins and his nieces?" asked Mary.
Jane nodded. "A great deal, I believe. John is the best of friends with our cousin Benjamin, though Ben is four years older. And Mrs. Gardiner talks of bringing Anne out in greater society as she is to be eighteen soon."
Elizabeth nodded. "We talked of my perhaps introducing Anne about at a few balls and parties here in town, before…" She paused and swallowed past a sudden lump in her throat.
I will not cry, she admonished herself.
"Perhaps, once you have been here a few weeks, you might propose doing so this year," suggested Jane softly.
"Perhaps," Elizabeth agreed. "I am sure our aunt would consider it a great kindness."
She drew a deep breath and forced a smile to her lips. "Do the two of you ever miss Netherfield? It has been some time since I was last there, but I remember that Mrs. Gardiner enjoys being mistress of the estate as much as you did."
Charles had followed through on giving up Netherfield as had been suggested after Mary's wedding, moving Jane away from Mrs. Bennet about three months later to reduce her influence on his wife's mental state. In the first few years after his taking Glenwood Manor, an estate in Nottinghamshire, Jane had suffered from further bouts of irrational behavior, but the distance between her and her mother—and Charles' constant love and dedication to making her happy—had eventually done as he and Elizabeth had hoped. The episodes had become so few and far between that she'd not had one in more than a twelvemonth. Jane's sister and her husband were not remiss to the influence of her popularity during the Season over the years also being a factor in the improvement of her stability.
When it had been determined that the Bingleys were to quit the neighborhood, Jane had recalled saying one day that her Uncle Gardiner might have taken Netherfield had her husband not done so. Charles wrote immediately to Mr. Gardiner, who had been considering moving his family to an estate for some time, to ask if he and Mrs. Gardiner would be interested in taking over the lease. The Gardiners were delighted with the idea, Mrs. Gardiner especially; though she had not at all minded their life and home in Cheapside, she had long dreamt of being mistress of her own estate. The family was eagerly welcomed in Meryton, with Mr. Gardiner being named a "prodigal son" upon his return to the neighborhood of his youth. Their children had prospered there and made many friends over the last nine years.
Jane's smile was warm and natural. "Oh, no, Lizzy. I still adore Netherfield in some small measure, but Glenwood has long taken its place in my heart. You really must come and see the improvements we made last year."
"The estate continues to prosper then? Not that I would expect otherwise," said Mary.
Charles grinned. "It does indeed, sister. My steward and I have even projected an increase in profits, if the weather does not make planting difficult for my tenants."
"I am very glad to hear that you do so well," said Elizabeth. "I cannot say when I might come, but I should like to see your home again."
The conversation continued a few minutes more, then the Bingleys departed. Harry came over to sit heavily next to Elizabeth with a sigh. "Upon my word, Mamma," said the boy. "I'd near forgotten we had so many cousins."
Elizabeth and Mary chuckled. "And you have not even seen them all, my love. Do not forget Lady Charlotte or your aunt Lydia's daughters; there is also Lord Rowarth's children, Colonel Fitzwilliam's, and Mrs. Parker's—not to mention your nieces and nephews."
Harry wrinkled his nose. "It's so funny to be an uncle, I think, when my nieces and nephews are almost the same age as me. They're more like cousins that way, are they not?"
"You may think of them that way if you like," said Elizabeth. "Your sister Adelaide felt similarly about me when I married your papa, because I am only four years older than she."
Harry appeared to think on that for a moment, then said, "My nephew Thomas is a marquess like me, is he not?"
"Not yet, Harry," said Elizabeth.
Mary, who sat on her other side, must have noted her distress at the question, for she reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze as she added, "Your nephew is at present still an earl by courtesy, as his father yet lives."
Harry's curious expression fell, and he looked down at his hands as he said, "Oh, right. His papa has to die before he becomes a marquess. Like my papa did. I don't want my nieces and nephews to be sad like me and my brother and sisters—and you, Mamma."
Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his shoulders and drew him to her, kissing the top of his head as she swallowed past another lump in her throat. "Nor do I, my love. Nor do I."
An hour later, Harry, Thomas, and Bennet sat before the hearth playing spillikins while Isabella and Prudence sat at a table drawing; Elizabeth and Mary were each of them reading a book when they heard the door knocker for a third time.
Harry looked up and groaned. "Which of my abundance of cousins do you think it will be this time?" he asked in a droll tone.
Elizabeth only just held back the laugh that bubbled up in her chest; across from her, Mary merely lifted an eyebrow.
"Do not be cross, Harry," said his aunt. "It is kind of our family to call on us first."
"Not to mention proper etiquette," added his mother. "As we rank higher in society than our relations, by courtesy they must pay their respects to us before we call on them."
"Even Aunt Disley?" asked Isabella. "She is older than Grandmamma!"
"Isabella, while that may be true, you must not say such things," Elizabeth admonished her gently. "It is impolite to discuss a lady's age. But yes, you are in part correct. Harry and I rank above her, but as she was born the daughter of a marquess—as you were—she ranks above you, Thomas, and Meg, because she is older."
Simmonds then entered the drawing room and announced Lady Disley herself. Elizabeth rose to greet her, as did Mary, the girls, and Harry—though when she saw that the younger boys were still sitting on the floor, she aimed a pointed look at her son.
Harry urged his brother and his cousin to their feet, saying, "Tom, Ben, a gentleman always stands when a lady enters the room."
"Quite correct, Lord Stashwick," said Lady Disley as she at last crossed the threshold. "You are an example to your father's memory."
When she stepped up to Elizabeth and leaned to kiss her cheek, she whispered, "He really is Henry's very image my dear."
Elizabeth smiled. "I could not agree with you more."
After the countess had greeted Mary and the children and they were seated again, she asked, "I assume little Margaret is napping?"
"Yes," Elizabeth replied. "She and Sarah were taken upstairs by the nurse half an hour ago."
Lady Disley nodded, then looked to Mary. "Is Sir Robert here with you, Lady Winstead?"
Mary shook her head. "No, my lady. My husband remained in Stashwick as he could not in good conscience pass his duties to our curate—we will soon lose the oldest member of our community."
Lady Disley raised a hand to her heart and looked mildly alarmed. "Not old Mr. Benson!"
"The very same, my lady," said Mary. "But pray do not distress yourself on his behalf—Mr. Benson is at peace with his end, for our Lord has granted him a miraculous ninety years on this Earth."
"I… Goodness me, I knew he was very old, but I think a part of me thought he would outlive everyone," said Lady Disley then. "I must remember to write to his family when I go home—they are an institution in Stashwick Parish. I do believe that the family has been there as long as my own."
A brief silence fell as she collected herself, then Lady Disley smiled brightly and turned her gaze to Elizabeth. "My dear Elizabeth, I am having the family over tomorrow evening for dinner. Will you come?"
A feeling of resignation stole over Elizabeth. She had been expecting the question since reading her visitor's note that morning, and though she would rather remain at home in the first few days of her stay, she had resolved that going out in the world again was inevitable.
At least it is only a family dinner, Lizzy, said her inner voice. You can handle one family dinner.
Stifling a sigh, she replied at last, "I will be there."
Next chapter, I promise you that ODC will meet again... and maybe sparks will fly. ;)