At last, my dear readers, I have brought you another chapter! We are getting so very close to the end - I think two more chapters, matching the length of volume one. This chapter is perhaps the longest yet, but it helps ODG make a very important decision.
One more, as always, I thank you all for following along on this journey, for all your kindness and support and enthusiasm. You really are some of my favorite people.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Elizabeth found herself much distracted throughout the rest of the day, and all through the evening as well.
She could not stop herself wondering if she ought to speak to her children about Darcy's intentions. He had made them clear to her, and based on her daughters' words that afternoon, they were aware of them as well, on some level. Isabella was certainly old enough to understand that the attention the gentleman paid to her mother implied an interest that went deeper than mere friendship—and she had drawn his portrait, which was indicative of her own admiration for him.
Harry had engaged in two deep conversations with Darcy over the chessboard, and Thomas seemed to like him well enough. Margaret, of course, just wanted her friend around all the time because her sister could not play with her as often as she wished, but Elizabeth could hardly blame her, for Clara was a very delightful little girl. She recalled Darcy saying his daughter had recently expressed a desire for a mother and siblings, and if nothing else, Miss Darcy clearly enjoyed her time with Margaret and Sarah.
Her pleasure in the company of other girls who would play with her did not mean she cared for their mother as well, however. Clara may think me a nice lady, Elizabeth had thought, but that does not mean she desires me to be her mother.
And could she really take on the responsibility of mothering another woman's child? Did she have any wish to, when she had four of her own to rear into adulthood?
Her dilemma plagued her even in her dreams that night, so when the family had settled into their pew at church the next morning, Elizabeth tilted her head back and looked toward the heavens as she said a silent prayer for guidance. Is this to be my path now, God? I beg you would send me some sign.
"Why, Mr. Darcy, Miss Darcy!" said Mrs. Gardiner then, drawing Elizabeth's attention. She looked over to see that Darcy and Clara were indeed standing in the aisle next to their pew.
"Good morning, ladies. Children," said Darcy with a smile as he looked over them, his gaze lingering briefly on Elizabeth.
"What a pleasant surprise, Mr. Darcy," she greeted him. "I do not recall seeing you here before."
Darcy smiled. "Indeed, Lady Stashwick, I usually attend services at St. Martin's when I am in London, as one of the vicars there is a cousin on my father's side. However, when I awoke this morning, I found myself overcome by a desire to be at St. James's today—so here we are. Clara and I had best take our seats now, ere the vicar takes to the pulpit."
Even as she wondered if their appearance was the very sign she had prayed for, Elizabeth stood and invited Darcy to join her family, saying, "There is plenty of room for two more, I assure you."
Darcy's smile widened, and he looked down at Clara, who grinned happily. To Elizabeth he replied, "We are honored by your invitation, my lady."
They entered the pew and moved to the end of the long line of women and children seated there, which allowed Clara to sit next to Sarah; this appeared to please both girls.
Margaret leaned around Isabella. "Mamma, may I please go and sit with my friend and my cousin?" she asked in a whisper.
"Only if you can promise to be a good girl and not talk while the vicar is giving his sermon, like I taught you," Elizabeth replied.
"Oh, I promise, Mamma!" her little girl said cheerfully before slipping off the bench seat and moving quickly past Mary and her elder two children to plant herself on the other side of Clara, which placed her right next to Darcy.
Elizabeth could not help herself looking down the row at him and grinning before she resolutely faced forward; at the same moment the vicar was stepping up to the lectern.
The lesson for the day was to seek the wisdom of God when the heart and mind could not agree. Elizabeth felt a tingling sensation travel down her spine, for had she not only moments ago done just that when she had asked for a sign? And the very moment after she had done so, Darcy appeared.
Darcy… A man she had once sworn to loathe for all eternity was now her friend, and in truth could be counted as a relation by marriage. He wanted to court her—claimed he had been in love with her for many years. He had been nothing but kind to her and her children and had been very charming and gentlemanly towards herself. He had even been flirtatious, a trait she might once have sworn him entirely incapable of!
His estate was still very prosperous, proving what an attentive master and landowner he was—indeed, she had heard from Frances over the years that he had nearly doubled his income. The sweet and gentle character of his daughter was all the proof anyone would require as to his capabilities as a father. And being entirely honest with herself, Elizabeth could not deny that she found him as attractive now as when she had first met him—perhaps more so, as the years had been as kind to Darcy as they had been to herself. There was only a hint of grey peeking through the dark curls around his temples, his figure was still very fit, and those dimples!
She really did have such a weakness for a man with dimples.
But could she really love him? she wondered. A good man such as Darcy deserved to be loved. Elizabeth was not the sort who could not give her whole heart—therefore, how could she give Darcy his heart's desire when her own had been claimed years ago?
Oh, Henry, she thought with desperation. Perhaps it is not God from whom I need a sign, but you. You were able to move on from your loss—however did you do it? How did you know that your heart had been returned to you, and how did you know you were ready to let someone else claim it?
When the service was over, Elizabeth's party was besieged for some minutes by well-wishers and those simply hoping to be seen talking to nobility. Nearly a quarter of an hour passed before she and her family were at last able to make their way out of the church.
"Gracious me, Lizzy," said Charlotte. "Is it always like that when you are in town?"
Elizabeth chuckled. "Sometimes it is worse. Rank hath its privileges, as they say, but it also has its downfalls. Henry often lamented that he wished he could go back to those few weeks of anonymity he experienced when recovering at Longbourn."
"His Lordship was not so anonymous, as I recall," spoke up Darcy. "You and your father knew who he was as soon as my cousin and I came to call."
"And our housekeeper very soon confessed she knew him to be more than a carriage driver," said Elizabeth as the family were making their way down the steps. "Henry convinced her to keep the knowledge to herself, as anonymity would protect her master's family."
"Which the Hills have always taken most seriously," said Mary. "Did not Mrs. Hill scold you more than Mamma ever did for going off alone?"
Elizabeth laughed again. "Indeed, she did—and the looks I would get when I came back with my petticoats covered in dirt, or worse!"
Mrs. Gardiner sidled over to her as they at last reached the three carriages which had conveyed them. "Lizzy," said she in a low voice, "do you not think it would be a kindness to issue an invitation to Mr. and Miss Darcy to take breakfast with us?"
Knowing at once what her aunt was about—and for the first time not taking any umbrage over the subtle manipulation—Elizabeth smiled and nodded before turning toward Darcy and casually issuing the invitation.
His countenance brightened at once, and Clara's shined as brightly. "Oh, can we, Papa? Please?"
Darcy chuckled. "Certainly, dearest. After all, it would be very uncivil of us, do not you think, to decline so gracious an invitation from so highly ranked a lady?"
Clara frowned. "You mean we always have to say yes?"
"Not at all," said her father. "However, once must be very careful when declining an invitation so as not to offend the issuer."
"Oh!" said Clara in a somewhat dramatic fashion, which led to knowing smiles on the faces of the adults around her. "And we 'specially don't want to offend the lady if we want her to love—I mean, like—us!"
Darcy's cheeks colored a little at Clara's faux pas, and Elizabeth could feel her own face and neck growing warm. Thankfully none of the others commented, though Harry and Isabella gave her queer looks as they were climbing into their carriage. Thomas, who likely hadn't heard as he'd been chatting with Bennet, looked confused as to why his brother and sister looked at her as they did.
Back at Stashwick House, the family was met by a small army of lady's maids, nursemaids, and Mr. Owens, the latter of whom never failed to be of service to Harry and Tom. The aging but still hale manservant, who had been a consummate professional since the death of his former master, surprised Elizabeth by noticeably lifting an eyebrow when Darcy led Clara into the house. His eyes flickered from Darcy to her then down to the children, who were then chattering excitedly amongst themselves about their eagerly awaited breakfast.
Owens was certainly not remiss to Darcy's solicitous attention to Elizabeth after handing off his coat to a maid. From the corner of her eye, she noticed the valet watching them intently as Darcy offered his arm and asked her for the honor of escorting her to the dining parlor. Her cheeks warm under the scrutiny of the longest-serving person in the family's employ—as well as Darcy's dimpled smile—Elizabeth found she could only offer a weak smile and a nod in return as she slipped her hand around the latter's elbow.
She soon forgot her discomfiture as everyone settled around the dining table to break their fast and converse. All the children were well behaved and talked mostly of their activities during the week and the family musical party that would take place the next evening. The adults also talked of the musical party, with Elizabeth informing the others that rather than going by the rank of the children's parents, they would perform according to age, from the youngest to the oldest.
"So, I shall go last," quipped Anne.
"I am certain your position is not meant as a slight, Miss Gardiner," Darcy said.
"Indeed, it is not, Darcy," said Elizabeth. "It is only because you have so much more experience than the rest of the children in the family. Lady Disley and I simply do not wish any of the younger boys and girls to feel any intimidation in following after someone of such skill."
Anne blushed. "You are too kind, cousin," said she.
"So, it will only be the children performing tomorrow?" Darcy asked then. "Not any of the parents?"
"No, indeed!" replied Elizabeth with a laugh. "The purpose of the party is to showcase and encourage the talents of our children, for there are so very many and nearly all of them are musical."
Darcy smiled. "Ah, I recall now the discussion that was had at the family dinner."
"Yes. We shall be delighted by the piano, the harp, the violin, the cello, and I believe Daniel Parker plays the glockenspiel."
"What a diversion from the usual instruments that will be," observed Mrs. Gardiner.
"Indeed, aunt. I suspect Meg will be fascinated by it, as she rather enjoys banging on the piano keys rather than actually making music with them," said Elizabeth with a grin in her daughter's direction. "Being allowed to bang on something with sticks should give her endless entertainment."
Darcy chuckled. "What fun that will be for you, my lady."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes as she said, "Yes, I am so looking forward to it."
It was soon agreed that Clara would be allowed to play with the other little girls for a while after breakfast, which delighted Margaret and Sarah as much as she; Prudence also smiled cheerfully. When the visitors were at last preparing to depart just before noon, Darcy again reached for Elizabeth's hand to lift it and touch his lips to the back. Elizabeth felt warm and embarrassed and … and pleased. Oh, how could she not be when he was so very determined to woo her, yet also respectful of her feelings?
Margaret and Sarah were put down for a nap after the Darcys' departure, and the older children were encouraged to entertain themselves with quiet pursuits. Isabella declared she would work on her sketching, Prudence and Catherine their needlework, and the three boys sat to a game of spilikins. While Mary, Anne, and Mrs. Gardiner worked on needlework or reading, Elizabeth took herself into her study, feeling the need for some solitude to get her thoughts in order.
She had not been long there when came a knock at the door. When she bade the visitor entrance, she was a little surprised to see Owens step inside and shut the door behind him.
"Is something wrong, Owens?" Elizabeth asked.
"Not at all, Your Ladyship," the valet replied, arousing Elizabeth's curiosity with the hesitant tone with which he spoke. "I… Forgive my impertinence, but I believe I observed some measure of intimacy in regard to you on the part of Mr. Darcy."
Elizabeth stifled a sigh; she had not expected this to be the reason for his need for private audience, but neither was she entirely surprised he had brought it up—he had served her husband faithfully for nearly four decades.
"If you are wondering whether Mr. Darcy and I are courting, Owens, the answer is no," she began. "However, I will do you the courtesy if confirming that he does wish it."
"And—if I may ask—what do you wish, my lady?" Owens asked softly.
Releasing the sigh she had moments ago contained, Elizabeth replied, "I honestly don't know anymore. I am deeply flattered by Mr. Darcy's affection for me, and I do enjoy his company very much, but I loved Henry with all my heart and I've no desire to disrespect his love for me by moving on too quickly. After all, it was five years before he began to crave companionship again, and nearly seven before he married a second time."
"Indeed, it was, madam, but I have often observed that ladies and gentlemen mourn differently," said Owens. "Men who have been in love are prone to believing they no longer need companionship to feel true contentment, whereas women who have been in love crave it—oftentimes unaware."
Elizabeth slowly arched an eyebrow. "Might I ask you, sir, to what this inquisition intends?"
Owens bowed from the shoulders. "Begging your every pardon, Lady Stashwick, if I have overstepped," said he. "However, I am also following my master's instructions."
Both eyebrows now rose toward Elizabeth's hairline. "Your master's instructions? Surely my sons did not send you in here to ask—"
"Not at all, my lady," Owens assured her. "I refer to the late Lord Stashwick."
The valet then reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and drew out a folded piece of paper—two sheets, if she was not mistaken—which he held out to her over the desk. Elizabeth immediately recognized Henry's heavy scrawl over the Stashwick seal where he had written the words For Elizabeth.
Her hand shook as she reached for it. When it had passed from Owens' hand to her own, the elderly servant said softly, "I was given instruction by my master to give that to you when the time was right—he said I would know when, and I believe that time is now."
Owens took a step back, bowed deeply from the waist, then turned about smartly and quit the room. Elizabeth stared at the letter in her hand for several minutes before she could bring herself to open it. At last, she sat back in her chair and drew a deep breath, then carefully broke the seal so as not to tear the paper.
A moment later, her breath caught in her throat when she saw that it had been written the day after their ninth wedding anniversary … just three days before Henry died.
Stashwick House
3 March 1821
My dearest, most beloved Elizabeth,
It is nearly five in the morning as I sit here at the writing desk in my room, penning a letter by candlelight. At present you are asleep in my bed, looking so serene and beautiful in your slumber. Your knees are drawn up and one hand rests beneath your cheek, the other stretched towards where I was beside you only moments ago.
Every time I look at you, I cannot but thank God for the gift of you. I was an old man already when we met, and in my experience, beautiful young women do not want curmudgeonly old men for their husbands. They don't want stepdaughters who've tried to poison them or brothers-by-marriage who've tried (repeatedly) to commit murder. They don't want to be associated with scandal at all for the sake of their own families, and I cannot say I blame them.
You, however… You braved it all. You stood by me during one of the darkest periods of my life when it would have made more sense for you to run away, and there are not words enough to thank you for it. You quickly grew indifferent to the great number of years between us; you called me handsome, you laughed at my jokes, smiled at my charm… And best of all you loved me. You loved me enough to allow me into your bed—to often share mine—leading to the creation of four more beautiful children. You became the most intimate friend of the only child left to me from my first marriage, and I have delighted in watching the two of you grow so close. I did not think it possible that a man could be so happy as I am more than once in a lifetime, yet you have proven me entirely wrong.
Elizabeth, you will think me foolishly morbid, but I am writing this letter to you now because of a dream. I dreamt of my death and saw you prostrate with grief, and even knowing it was only a dream, the thought of you so overcome breaks my heart. I know that you will mourn me, dearest—that is only natural, given I am such a charming fellow—but I pray you do not mourn me forever. The thought of you not sharing that most generous heart of yours and all the love it has to give seems a crime against nature. You are such an amazing person, you deserve to always love and be loved.
When I have gone, mourn me. And when the time comes—only you can determine how long it will be—move on. Find another fellow who doesn't deserve the angel on Earth that you are and bless him with the gift of that incredible heart. If he has even a modicum of intelligence, for you could never marry a man who was out of his wits, he will know what he has and he will cherish it as the most precious of gifts.
Continue to love, Elizabeth, and you will always be loved. Happiness is my wish for you, even though the day will come when it is another who makes you so—and he'd better, or he'll have me to answer to when his day of judgment comes.
Time to put these morbid thoughts aside and return to you. Is it wicked of me that I hope you will wake, that we might continue our private celebrations? We've been married nine years now, you and me. Nine incredible years. God has truly blessed me.
Yours always,
Henry
It was not until a droplet splashed onto the page that Elizabeth realized she was crying. How precious was this gift—a blessing, even encouragement, to share her heart and love again. And how very Henry, who had never seemed to know the enormous generosity of his own heart, to write such a letter and give it to his most trusted servant to be delivered when he felt the time was right.
Well, you did ask for signs, Elizabeth, she thought to herself as she sniffled, read through the letter again, and then folded it and put it away in a drawer. She next withdrew a handkerchief tucked away in her sleeve to blot her nose and wipe away her tears. She thought of how she still wasn't certain she was ready to give her heart away again but realized that she never would know unless she tried. Darcy was very handsome, and his attentions grew more pleasing with every visit. He had told her he loved her already, and he had been nothing but kind to her children.
Thinking of the children, she realized there was no more confirmation that she should speak to them than having a letter from their father.
When Meg and Sarah woke from their naps, and all the children had enjoyed an afternoon snack together, Elizabeth escorted her sons and daughters into her study.
"Are we in trouble, Mamma?" asked Thomas as he sat with his brother and sisters on the settee before the fireplace.
Elizabeth shook her head as she lowered herself into an adjacent chair. "No, Tom, no one is in trouble. I do, however, have something rather serious that I need to talk with you all about."
"It's about Mr. Darcy, isn't it?" asked Isabella. "And what Clara said after church this morning."
With a nod of her head, Elizabeth replied, "And what you said to Meg on Saturday, Bella, and she to Clara. It made me think that it was time I spoke to you about Mr. Darcy and his interest in me. I would have you be honest with me as to your feelings should I grant Mr. Darcy's request for courtship."
"What is courtship?" asked Margaret.
"Courtship is when a gentleman chooses a particular lady upon whom to bestow his affections, with the intention of eventually proposing marriage," Elizabeth explained, hoping that Meg would understand the simple explanation.
Her youngest child furrowed her brow as she considered what she'd heard, then looked up with a bright expression as she cried, "Do you mean Clara would live with us all the time?!"
Elizabeth slowly nodded. "Eventually, if I should decide that I like Mr. Darcy enough to marry him."
"But where would we live? Clara says that they have their own house here and a really big house in Derby-shire," Margaret continued.
"That is something Mr. Darcy and I would have to discuss once we decide whether or not to marry," said Elizabeth.
"Oh, I hope you do! I like Clara lots—she's like another sister! And if Mr. Darcy was always here, it would be like having another papa!"
"We already had a papa, Meg," said Thomas.
"I know, but we could have another one!" said his younger sister excitedly.
"It wouldn't be the same," Thomas insisted.
Elizabeth studied his countenance carefully. He seemed unsure and a little lost, like he did not know how to feel.
"Tom, do you not like Mr. Darcy?" she asked him.
He shrugged. "He's nice, I suppose. And he plays chess well. But he's not Papa."
Elizabeth nodded. "No, he is not. And I do not think he would try to be—"
"He wouldn't," spoke up Harry. "He promised me."
Surprised by this revelation, Elizabeth looked at her elder son. "What do you mean by that, Harry?"
"We talked about it when I noticed he likes you," said Harry with a shrug. "I know you said I should just enjoy being a boy, Mamma, but I still have to look out for you. I wanted to make sure he was a good man."
Emotion swelled beneath her breast at his words, and it was all Elizabeth could do not to cry—or to move from her chair and embrace him.
"And, um, what was the result of your conversations with him, if I may ask?" she ventured around the lump in her throat.
"Mr. Darcy said he knows he's not my papa, and that he would never try to take his place," Harry replied. "He proposed that he be my friend instead, and I am sure he meant he would be my brother and sisters' friend as well. And he promised me that he would do his best to make you smile every day."
"You do smile more often, Mamma, when he is here," said Isabella. "And you laugh more. I miss your laugh—smiling and laughing means you're not sad about Papa anymore."
"Oh, dearest Bella, I shall always be sad about your papa," Elizabeth told her. "I loved him very much, and a part of me shall love him always. He was very good to me, and he gave me the four of you."
"But papa isn't here anymore, and Mr. Darcy makes you happy?" said Harry.
"I confess that I do enjoy his company, and when I know he is to call, or that I shall see him somewhere, I find myself looking forward to it," Elizabeth replied. "Mr. Darcy is my friend, but he wishes to be more. I shan't know if we would make a good match unless I allow him to court me properly, but in courting me, he courts you also. If you find the idea disagreeable, tell me now."
"It will be very strange to have another man living with us," said Thomas.
"We would not live together straight away, Tom," Elizabeth assured him. "That is what courtship is all about—to determine if we will all of us get on well enough to take that step."
"You will not send us away to live with Aunt Disley or Cousin Theo, will you?" asked Isabella.
"No! I want to live with Mamma and Clara and all of you!" cried Margaret.
"No, Bella, I absolutely would not send you away," said Elizabeth firmly. "That is why I am asking for your thoughts and feelings. It is very important to me that, if I should marry again, you get on well with the gentleman and that he is kind to you."
Isabella drew a breath and looked at her siblings. "I do like him, Harry. He is very kind to us, and he makes Mamma smile and laugh. And he is a good papa to Clara, so he could be a friend like a papa to us. And Tom, do not you think Papa would want Mamma to be happy again?"
"I remember he did not like it when she was sad," Thomas replied.
"And if Clara lived with us, she would never have to go away, and we could play all the time!" added Margaret.
"If it is our blessing you seek, Mamma, I believe you have it," said Harry.
Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat, so overcome was she for a moment. She then smiled and blinked back tears as she said, "I do not need your blessing, but I am glad to know I have it all the same. Thank you, my loves."