Hola, mi amigos y amigas! Thank you all so very much, once again, for the kind words and enthusiasm you have shown for this story so far. There were a couple of matters brought up that I want to address:
Ages of the Bingley siblings - Louisa is 26, Charles 22, Caroline 21, and Elizabeth 20. I based Bingley and Elizabeth on their ages at the start of P&P and had to speculate on the other two. In truth, I waffled on whether Caroline would be older, younger, or a twin of Charles, but knew that whichever way I went, Elizabeth was the youngest. I suspect that the late Mrs. Bingley suffered a few miscarriages between Louisa and Charles before popping out a kid three years in succession.
Elizabeth's dowry - I know that in some cases, a fortune had to be split and that in such cases the girls would have slightly lower dowries each. However, in my head, the family business was begun by their grandfather and he is the one who made it successful. Their father simply kept that success going, which is why he never got around to purchasing an estate. That is why each of the sisters got twenty thousand.
Chapter Three
"A shipyard never looked so good to me!"
Elizabeth laughed as the Thrush slid up against the dock, and a man called out "Anchor's down!"
"My dear colonel, if I did not know you better, I would fear you will kneel upon stepping foot on shore to kiss the very earth you tread upon."
Fitzwilliam snorted. "Do not tempt me, Miss Elizabeth."
Elizabeth laughed as they turned from the railing and moved toward the gangplank, where they met Mrs. Martin. The older woman was also clearly ready to disembark.
Captain and Mrs. Wentworth joined them as the ramp was being lowered. "It has been my honor to serve you, Miss Bingley. Colonel Fitzwilliam. Mrs. Martin."
The three passengers thanked the captain, curtseying and bowing in turn. Mrs. Wentworth stepped forward to embrace Elizabeth and said, "I shall miss your company, Elizabeth. It is always a refreshing change to have another woman on board."
"Then perhaps you should convince one of your officers to find a bride, and your husband to allow her to be your companion," suggested Elizabeth.
Lieutenant Price stepped up to the group then, and said, "I should be glad to oblige my captain's lady, Miss Bingley, if I had fortune enough and could find as brave a lady as she."
"I am certain God will reward your patience, sir, as He has rewarded your captain's," Elizabeth assured him, recalling what Mrs. Wentworth had revealed about hers and her husband's history.
"I just hope it don't take the Almighty almost nine years!" Price returned. "Er, no offence, Captain."
Wentworth laughed along with his wife. "I take none at all, for believe me, no matter the length of your wait, Lieutenant, the reward will most definitely be worth it."
Elizabeth smiled at the fond look the captain and his lady shared, then saying her goodbyes again, she and her companions departed the Thrush at last, six days after having set foot upon her.
Colonel Fitzwilliam drew a deep breath and released it slowly. "Ah, England!" he cried softly. "Never have I been so glad to be home."
He shuddered slightly. "Needless to say, I'm not fond of sailing."
Elizabeth chuckled. "So, I gathered."
The colonel then arranged for a cart to carry their trunks, which were now being carried off the Thrush by some of the crew, to meet them at the closest reputable inn. They then set off to follow it at a leisurely pace, so that they could get used to walking on a surface that did not move.
When the three had secured their rooms, they each elected to change into clothing that did not smell of the sea. Elizabeth's next desire was to write a letter to her brother, informing him that she had returned to England and would be in London in a little under a week's time.
We will be stopping for a day or two in Surrey, in a parish called Donwell, where my companion, Mrs. Martin, has family that she must inform of her husband's death.
After signing and sealing the letter, Elizabeth asked Mrs. Martin to join her in taking it to the post office, where she requested it be sent express. On their return to the inn, they found that Colonel Fitzwilliam had secured a private dining parlor and ordered their dinner.
"I do hope you ladies do not mind my taking the liberty," said he.
"Not at all, Colonel," said Elizabeth.
"How long shall we remain in Plymouth, Colonel?" asked Mrs. Martin.
The colonel snapped his fingers. "As to that, madam, I have asked the innkeeper when the next coach is due. There is one scheduled for this evening at 10 o'clock, but I thought it best to wait for the next after, which will roll through here twelve hours later. I was certain you ladies would appreciate having the evening to rest."
Mrs. Martin looked relieved. "I must admit that I am looking forward to a night in a bed that does not sway. As much as I appreciate the accommodations made for us, I did not sleep very well aboard the Thrush."
"I confess it was rather difficult for me to sleep deeply as well," said Elizabeth. "I feel rather exhausted, though I hardly lifted a finger aboard ship."
"You're exhausted, Miss Elizabeth?" quipped the colonel. "I lifted more than a finger, I remind you. If any of us should be exhausted, it is me!"
The ladies looked at one another and laughed, and a few minutes later their dinner of mutton stew was served. They ate heartily—though Elizabeth thought the soup a bit too oily for her taste—and soon after retired early to their rooms. Though she was physically weary, her mind was still active, and Elizabeth read a few chapters of a book of poems before finally taking to her bed.
The following morning saw the three meet again in the private parlor to break their fast.
"Good morning, ladies," said Colonel Fitzwilliam with a bow. "How did you sleep?"
"Much better, Colonel, thank you," said Mrs. Martin.
"Indeed," agreed Elizabeth, "though I did once wake briefly and wondered why the ship wasn't rocking!"
Fitzwilliam laughed. "I confess to thinking the same as I was drifting to sleep, before I recalled that I was no longer aboard the Thrush."
Breakfast was soon served, and upon finishing, they readied themselves to depart on the mail coach. Fitzwilliam was somewhat disappointed on its arrival to discover that due to the number of passengers, there was not room enough inside the coach for all three of their party, and he was forced by necessity to sit on one of the outer benches for the first several stops until one of the last—which was their own original destination: Portsmouth.
In Portsmouth, after stretching their legs for a brief period of time, the colonel was at last able to join the ladies inside the carriage, and Elizabeth found the conversation thereafter to be much livelier. Fitzwilliam even managed to engage the two strangers who rode in the coach with them, though their replies to his queries were brief.
At last, as twilight gave way to the inky black of night, they arrived at the coaching inn in Donwell Parish. The church bell rang, and Elizabeth glanced at her watch in the dim light of an oil lamp on the street: it was 10 o'clock. She was utterly amazed that they had managed to cover the distance from Plymouth to Donwell in less than a day.
Beside her, Fitzwilliam sighed. "Thank goodness for the speed of the English mail coach," said he.
"Sir," spoke up Mrs. Martin, "do you think we might go to my husband's relations tonight?"
The colonel shook his head. "No, Mrs. Martin—I know that you wish to condole with your family, but it is very late. The sad news will hurt them no less tonight than it will tomorrow, I daresay. Let us again take some rest, that you have as much strength as possible for the sad task before you."
Elizabeth watched tears come into the woman's eyes and she reached to link their arms together as Mrs. Martin sniffled and gave a reluctant nod of her head.
"You are right, of course, sir. I just… I know they will be so upset. My husband was the last link they had to their father, besides each other."
"Come, madam, let us get you into a bed that you may rest," Elizabeth said softly.
Mrs. Martin went silently, and after seeing her to her room, Fitzwilliam escorted Elizabeth to her own. Shortly after sunrise the next morning, they made their way to Abbey Mill Farm, where the former cook informed Mr. Robert Martin, his mother, and his two sisters that their uncle had passed away. Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth left her there to condole with her family alone for the day; on the way back to the inn, the colonel speculated as to whether they ought to leave the lady with her relations.
"I should be more than happy to," said Elizabeth, "were it not for the fact that you and I cannot travel to London alone together."
"There is that, Miss Elizabeth," her escort conceded. "She is as charged as I to see you safely to your brother's door—without her, I should have to marry you to get you there."
Elizabeth's eyes widened at his words. "Um, pray forgive me, Colonel—you are a delightful man and I enjoy our conversations immensely—"
Fitzwilliam interrupted her by laughing. "Oh, my dear Miss Elizabeth, could you have seen your countenance just now!" he cried. "Oh, how frightened you looked."
Elizabeth frowned. "I do not see the humour, sir."
Her companion chuckled a few more times, then sobered and said, "Do forgive me, Miss Elizabeth, but your expression really was rather comical."
"I am so happy to have amused you, Colonel, but I ask you how you would react when virtually proposed to by a man without the courtesy of a courtship?" Elizabeth retorted.
"I see your point, and beg your pardon again," said he.
Elizabeth accepted the apology with a smile. "As I was saying, as much as I enjoy your company, sir, you rather remind me too much of my brother. Both extraordinarily lively, happy to please and be pleased. Such happy manners you both have—so easy and unaffected."
"Thank you, Miss Elizabeth—I think."
She laughed. "I mean the comparison as a compliment, I assure you. When you have met Charles, I am sure you will see the similarities. I only bring it up, however, to explain that I could not marry you even if you wished it. Besides, I have not fortune enough even for you."
"Oh?" countered Fitzwilliam. "What makes you say that?"
"Your regular lamentations about being a poor second son not able to marry where you choose, and how men in your situation must consider your marriage prospects with some attention to money."
"You do not think your twenty thousand would satisfy me?" he said in a teasing tone.
That he knew the amount of her dowry did not surprise her—fortunes were as regularly discussed among soldiers as they were in society. Elizabeth paused and turned to look at him.
"Do you wish me to speak candidly, sir?" she asked.
His expression showed his surprise, but Fitzwilliam nevertheless nodded.
Inclining her own head, Elizabeth went on. "Firstly, I do not think you quite ready to give up your commission just yet—I've known you four years now and have always had the sense that you're just not ready to settle down with a wife. Then there are your circumstances—you are the spare and your brother the heir. As you are an earl's son, you are used to a certain level of extravagance when you are at home, or at least some bit of luxury. I do not know that a thousand pounds a year in interest from a twenty-thousand-pound fortune would be enough to satisfy you."
After a moment of staring at her, Colonel Fitzwilliam chuckled, offered his arm, and as they continued the walk back to their lodgings he said, "I wish you were not right, Miss Elizabeth. I rather like you very much, but twenty thousand pounds is not likely to purchase me an estate outright, at least not one comparable to Darcy's or my brother's."
"Who is Darcy?" Elizabeth asked.
"Oh, I mean my cousin, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, in Derbyshire," Fitzwilliam replied. "I'm rather surprised you have not heard me speak of him before—I've received a number of letters from him over the years."
"It is possible you have mentioned him," said Elizabeth with a lift of her shoulder. "I simply do not recall him. He must not be extraordinary enough to remember."
"Ha!" cried the colonel. "I can tell you, madam, that there are several dozen young ladies in London who would say otherwise. Darcy is one of the most eligible bachelors in the ton and one of the richest private gentlemen in the whole of the country."
Elizabeth grinned. "Oh, do tell then, Colonel. What is his income?"
"His estate alone nets him a clear ten thousand per annum."
Her eyes widened. "That is quite a sum indeed—it is no wonder he is so popular. Though I daresay it is his fortune the young ladies of your set are attracted to rather than his person."
"That and his house—Pemberley really is a most remarkable estate," Fitzwilliam opined. "As to the attractiveness—or lack thereof—of his person, I shall let you be the judge when you meet him."
"Do you expect that I shall?" Elizabeth queried as they reached the inn.
"I do not see why you should not," he replied. "After all, your uncle did say that your family are not likely to observe a period of mourning for your aunt—regrettable as that is—and as such, you will be free to attend balls and parties. I will thus take advantage of their lack of proper decorum and insist on dancing with you at all the soirées we happen to be at together."
"And as you are already acquainted with me, you can take on the office of introducing me to this cousin of yours," Elizabeth observed.
Fitzwilliam grinned. "Precisely, madam."
Mrs. Martin returned to the inn late in the evening, escorted by a gentleman she introduced as the landlord of her nephew. Mr. Knightley had a kind face, Elizabeth noted, and they were all of them astonished at the extraordinary offer he made them.
"I shall have my carriage at your disposal whenever you should wish to depart for London," he said.
"Sir, we are obliged to you for the generosity of your offer, but it is entirely unnecessary," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I have been given the funds by my general to see his niece safely into her brother's care, and we are neither of us afraid to take a public coach."
"I agree wholeheartedly," said Elizabeth. "We would not wish to deprive you of your carriage."
Knightley waved his hand dismissively. "It is nothing to me, Miss Bingley—I much prefer to ride or walk wherever I can," said he. "I make this offer out of respect for the late Mr. Martin—the family has been among the most respectable tenants my family has ever had. I've much admiration for young Robert, who now manages the farm. I knew both the young man's father and uncle, though the latter not so well as the former, or as much as I now do the son. But they are a good family, and I should like to do them this kindness, as Mrs. Martin must accompany you to town."
Mrs. Martin sniffled. "You are too kind, Mr. Knightley."
"Again, it is no trouble to me," the gentleman said. "I pray you will enjoy a more comfortable ride in my carriage than any public coach could ever afford you."
Knightley then turned to Elizabeth and with a slight bow, he said, "I also offer you my sincerest condolences for your loss, Miss Bingley."
Elizabeth sighed softly. "Thank you for the kindness, Mr. Knightley, though you know me not at all."
He smiled. "It costs a man nothing to be kind, Miss Bingley."
Knightley stayed only a few minutes more before departing; as they all agreed it served no real purpose to delay their journey, the gentleman's coach was set to arrive at dawn the following morning.
Elizabeth slept restlessly that night. In little more than half a day's time, she would see her brother and sisters again, for the first time in four years. She looked forward to the reunion and yet also dreaded it. Caroline and Louisa had been harsh in their judgment of her decision to accompany their aunt to Spain—what would they think of her now? Would they welcome her warmly or disdain her very presence, as they had done when they were all children? It rather saddened Elizabeth that she and her sisters had never been close—she had been closer to Charles than either sibling of her own sex, and the whole of her life had longed for such a sisterly connection as she had only ever read about.
The sun was just cresting the horizon as Colonel Fitzwilliam handed her into Mr. Knightley's carriage the next day. It was not an elaborate equipage, but it was, as promised, far more comfortable than the public coach they had taken from Plymouth.
It was nearing dinner time when they at last entered the outer environs of London. Elizabeth's anxieties increased as they drew closer to the house in Grosvenor Street where her brother-in-law lived. Charles had yet to purchase his own house and typically stayed in bachelor lodgings when he was not staying with friends or relations, so Elizabeth had directed her letters to him to Grosvenor Street since Louisa's marriage to Mr. Reginald Hurst—a man of more fashion than fortune, Charles had said, but he and Louisa had seemed smitten, so he had consented to the match.
In the express she had sent from Plymouth, Elizabeth had asked that Charles be at the home of their brother-by-marriage when she arrived, as she had never met Hurst and would thus feel most uncomfortable with asking him to shelter her.
When the carriage stopped at last before Number 12, Elizabeth drew a breath and willed her wildly beating heart to slow. Colonel Fitzwilliam exited the carriage first, then turned to hand her out as the door suddenly opened, and a tall, lanky figure topped by a crown of red curls bounded down the steps toward them.
"Lizzy!" Charles cried, embracing her tightly when he reached her. "You're home!"