A Constant Love: A Pride & Prejudice Continuation, page 46
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They had planned for Elizabeth’s portrait to be unveiled that evening. Thankfully, it had arrived the day before the storm, escorted in the coach by none other than Mrs. Wright, who, upon seeing it safely unloaded, said she would go assist in the preparations for the ball, which Elizabeth rather thought meant she would lend her assistance as much as she could, although all the while judging whether it might have been done better in town.
Dinner came out quite well – no better or worse than it would have at Curzon Street, to Elizabeth’s palate – and fortunately Lord Anglesey, Lord and Lady Stanton, and Lady Tonbridge all arrived in time to attend.
Mr. Thorpe had no interest in attending an unveiling outside of London, and so when they had all gathered in the drawing room following dinner to face the portrait in its easel, covered with velvet cloth, the honour of pulling off the cloth was left to Kitty as the most theatrical – as well as most artistic, now – among them.
The cloth was removed with sufficient drama by Catherine, and they all applauded, as they would have done no matter what it looked like. Elizabeth, who had already seen the portrait, thought it to be well-done, although perhaps a little unrealistic – certainly her features were not truly that symmetrical. The thought of everyone looking at a painting of her, and clapping, no less, she found terribly embarrassing, and she was glad when the applause ceased and they could toast the painting and then move on to other topics.
Little else was said on the painting, aside from the occasional compliment someone would come up to her and give from time to time, and of course Mrs. Bennet, who hovered around it, periodically exclaiming things such as: “My Lizzy, hanging in the great gallery of Pemberley, for all generations to see!” and “Charles, you must build a portrait gallery at Clareborne, and have a portrait done of Jane, as well!”
Only when Elizabeth climbed up into her husband’s bed, and he was moving his hand languidly over her belly, as he liked to do now, did she finally learn his opinion of it.
“You have been oddly silent about my portrait, Darcy. I know you must have some opinion of it.”
“It is tolerable, but not so handsome as the original.”
It took a moment for his statement to register with her, and then she laughed heartily. “How long have you been waiting to say that?”
“Since well before Mr. Thorpe began.”
“I should never have taught you to tease.”
“I would have learned anyway, with such an example before me.”
Elizabeth laughed, again – it felt rather wonderful to do so, for it had been some time since she had. The reminder of why that was struck her again, and her expression sobered, so rapidly that a far less observant man than Darcy would have noticed.
“What is the matter?” he asked.
“It just feels strange, to be laughing, when – when Edward is still missing.”
“Edward loves a laugh as much as any of us; he would not begrudge you this one.”
“I know, but it still feels strange,” she said. “It feels strange to be continuing on, and hosting a ball, while we still have no idea of his fate. I know we do not hold the ball for ourselves, but still, I do not know how I shall make it through the evening pretending that all is well.”
“I know,” he said, caressing her face in a way that Elizabeth suspected was as comforting to him as it was to her. “But I am for hope, when it comes to Edward, and if we hope, we must carry on as though our hopes will be met, even including the occasional laughter.”
Elizabeth knew he was right, and truly, she had no good reason to doubt in hope. In the last few years, all that she had hoped for had come to be – the discovery of Lydia and Wickham, Jane’s marriage to Charles, Catherine’s engagement, Captain Stanton’s recovery and proposal to Georgiana, her own marriage for love, and of course her pregnancy. Nothing of substance that she hoped and prayed for had failed to come about. And yet she could not help but think that the odds could not always be so good to her, and that some day, something that she hoped for would fail to happen. She wished deeply that this latest hope would not be it.
Chapter 21
By the day of the ball, all who were expected had arrived, some delayed because of the weather, but still there with enough time to settle. Added to their party were Captain Campbell, and Lord and Lady Fitzwilliam, who both looked very sober, but had felt that some of the Fitzwilliam family should attend. Mrs. Annesley had sent her regrets regarding the ball, for she could only spare enough time away from her new family for the wedding itself.
Elizabeth felt the estate in its hum of activity, preparing for its largest event in many years, but knew from the looks on the faces of both housekeepers that all was proceeding as planned. Elizabeth therefore went about her morning, and then up to Sarah to be changed, with utmost calm.
She and Georgiana were the first to return downstairs – there was little joy to be had in dressing for this ball – and as Elizabeth passed the table in the entrance-hall, she realised that everyone had been so occupied on this day that they had entirely neglected the post, so that several letters sat in the little gilded box. She commented on this to Georgiana, and picked them up. The first was a letter of business for Darcy, but Elizabeth was quite shocked to find the second was from Lord Brandon. It had been misdirected – Lord Brandon’s hand was quite the opposite of his wife’s – and Elizabeth had only just opened it when she became aware of its purpose.
“A fine carriage coming up the drive, ma’am, quite unexpected,” Mr. Parker said, rushing up to her.
“It is far too early for any of the neighbours,” Elizabeth said, following him, with Georgiana close behind her.
They could see as soon as they came out of the door that the coach had the Brandon arms, and Elizabeth wished that she had noticed the letter earlier, for she had no notion of who would alight the carriage, although her heart pounded at the thought that surely they would not have come all this way to deliver bad news. Lord Brandon came out first, and then assisted Lady Ellen down. He looked much as he usually did, but Lady Ellen seemed wan, and weary, although with a certain aspect of happiness to her countenance that must certainly mean –
“Edward!” Georgiana exclaimed, for Colonel Fitzwilliam could be seen behind his mother.
“Indeed! I understand there is to be a wedding, and I have yet to give my consent!” Colonel Fitzwilliam jumped down from the carriage and embraced Georgiana, looking quite healthy.
Except – Elizabeth’s breath caught, and Georgiana must have noticed by now, although she could not say anything, nor was she likely to have anything at all to say, so filled with sobs of happiness was she. Colonel Fitzwilliam had suffered the fate they had feared for Captain Stanton – there was no sling on his arm, only his now-useless sleeve, pinned to his coat.
“We found him in one of the houses that had been commandeered as a hospital in Brussels. The amputation had already occurred,” Lady Ellen murmured to Elizabeth, her voice thickening with tears at the word amputation. “He bears it exceedingly well, though, and we are far more fortunate than many families. It was the left arm, at least, and he is quite healthy, otherwise. It is far better than I feared, at times.”
Once again, Elizabeth was surprised by an additional presence in a carriage in Pemberley’s drive, for when the flurry of Colonel Fitzwilliam’s appearance had passed, Lydia descended from the carriage, swooned, recovered, and cried, “My Wickham is dead!”
“My God – Lydia!” Elizabeth exclaimed.
“Lord Brandon, surely you told Mrs. Darcy that her sister travelled with us in your letter,” Lady Ellen said.
“I have not even had the chance to read your letter,” Elizabeth said. “It was misdirected at first, and I only just noticed it with our post. But we are very relieved to see you all. Please come in and we shall sort everything out.”
They all followed her into the saloon, where they might close the doors for privacy, for all the guests were to gather in the yellow drawing room to go into dinner. Elizabeth asked Mr. Parker to send for Darcy, her own parents, and Lord and Lady Fitzwilliam; for she was quickly informed that the letter to her and Darcy had covered one for Colonel Fitzwilliam’s brother, meant to apprise him of the same news they had all just become acquainted with.
Lord Brandon gave his deepest apologies for the letter’s delay. He had written it during the passage to Ramsgate, on the Daphne, and had posted it express from the inn where they had hired a carriage, but it seemed the proprietor had pocketed the extra money for the express, rather than sending it so. They had been certain the letter would outpace them as they returned to London for two nights, before setting out for Derbyshire. All was readily forgiven, and Elizabeth asked for a better account of how they had come to find Lydia, when Mrs. Bennet entered, followed by the others.
“Oh, Lydia! My child, you are returned to us!” she cried, embracing her daughter.
“Mama, my Wickham is dead! We searched all the hospitals, and could not find him. My poor, dear Wickham!”
With his wife and youngest daughter now openly weeping, Mr. Bennet sedately thanked Lord and Lady Brandon for looking after Mrs. Wickham, and seeing her returned to them. Lord and Lady Fitzwilliam came in, and were most exceedingly shocked to find their brother there in the drawing room; Elizabeth was surprised to see Lord Fitzwilliam, whom she had always thought quite stoic, shed a few tears at the sight of his brother, and the Fitzwilliams took some time in embraces amongst their family before they would turn their attention to the others present.
All were seated, and Lord and Lady Brandon did then explain how they had come across Lydia quite by accident, for she was searching all the hospitals as they were, and they had overheard her ask about Mr. Wickham at one place, just after they had made their own inquiries. They had asked if she was Elizabeth Darcy’s sister – she was – and they had all then united in their search of the hospitals.
Colonel Fitzwilliam was found, Ensign Wickham was not. After such an exhaustive search, for they had checked every house that had been commandeered, and even the barns closer to the war front, they had been forced to conclude that he would not be found in the Netherlands, and convinced Lydia to make the crossing with them. When he was not in Ramsgate, nor in London, they had begun to suspect he had died on the battlefield like so many others.
“Lizzy, do you have any black crepe about? If not, where may it be purchased?” Mrs. Bennet asked. “My poor, poor Lydia shall have to go into mourning. We all shall.”
“My God, she is right,” Elizabeth murmured to Darcy. “He was my brother. At least you and I will have to go into mourning. It is too late to do anything about the ball, but the wedding – ”
“I absolutely will not have Georgiana’s wedding postponed by that man,” Darcy said, rather more loudly than he had intended.
“And why not, sir?” Mrs. Bennet cried. “He is your family, and he has died a hero! And you shall not go into mourning for him, as is proper?”
“That man made every attempt he could to slander my name, and very nearly ruined your family,” Darcy said.
Of those in the room, only he, Elizabeth, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and of course Georgiana knew of the deeper wound he had inflicted upon the Darcys, although none would speak of it. And of them, it was Colonel Fitzwilliam who finally spoke, attempting a different approach:
“Ma’am, perhaps we should wait until it is absolutely certain. It is possible there were other hospitals we did not know to search, or that he has been taken in by a farmer somewhere. Or made the crossing into some other port, and has not yet been able to get word to Mrs. Wickham. I am sure you would not wish to mourn him and then learn later he is still alive.”
Mrs. Bennet seemed mollified by this argument, but Lydia was unmoved, and spoke, with fresh tears, “He is dead, I am sure of it. I know it in my heart. He would have found me if he were still alive! You all may wait to go into mourning if you wish, but I will begin now, for I know my Wickham is gone.”
With this settled, the Fitzwilliams and Lydia were encouraged to go upstairs and change for the quick dinner that would be held before the ball. Elizabeth could see Lydia’s spirits warring over the thought of missing the ball, for she could hardly attend if in mourning, but to her sister’s credit, she held fast, and said she would stay in her apartment after dinner.
As the rest of the group departed, Elizabeth, Darcy, Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam stayed behind. When the others had left, Colonel Fitzwilliam said, “I am glad Mrs. Wickham believes him dead, for in all likelihood he is dead, but it may take the army months to sort through everything and declare him so. I would not wish to give her false hope, but like Darcy, I will not see Georgiana’s wedding postponed for that man, even if he is dead.”
They left to make their way to the yellow drawing room, and were met in the entrance-hall by Captain Stanton, who was quickly introduced to Colonel Fitzwilliam.
“I heard you were returned, sir, and wished to express my happiness at the event,” Captain Stanton said.
Colonel Fitzwilliam thanked him stiffly, and Captain Stanton seemed to notice the tension among the group, for he looked curiously at Georgiana. She took up his arm, and Elizabeth heard her murmur the news of Mr. Wickham’s being missing, and likely dead, and of the discussion over when mourning should begin.
“I agree that we should not delay the wedding on that man’s account,” he said, so particularly that Elizabeth felt certain her sister had told him of her history with Wickham at some point. “How do you take the news, my dear?”
“I do not know how to take it,” Georgiana said. “He was not a good man, and he made every attempt to use me ill, and yet I cannot say that I would wish any man dead.”
They all walked on in silence, and Colonel Fitzwilliam left them to go change for dinner, Mr. Parker having offered to act as his valet, a service that would have been offered by the butler or one of the footmen for any male guest at Pemberley, but seemed particularly critical for Colonel Fitzwilliam’s new situation. The drawing room already contained all but their most recently arrived guests and Mrs. Bennet, who had gone up with Lydia, and they all looked expectantly at Elizabeth and Darcy as they entered. It was clear the news of the Brandon carriage’s arrival had spread throughout the house. Darcy made a brief announcement, explaining the safe return of Colonel Fitzwilliam and the additions to their party, before noting that Ensign Wickham remained missing.
“Poor fellow,” Lady Tonbridge said. “We must all pray for his safe return. Mr. Stanton, perhaps you might lead us in something of the like?”
David Stanton obliged her, and then for a little while, the party relaxed into something resembling the conversation of the last few days. Elizabeth scanned the room to ensure that all were comfortable, and stopped with surprise when she saw Mary. For Mary’s hair was styled without all of its usual severity, and for once it flattered her face – she actually looked quite pretty, and Elizabeth was glad to see her finally take some interest in her presentation.
The cause for this sudden interest became readily apparent, for Mary was approached by David Stanton, and soon enough the two of them were deep in conversation. Elizabeth found herself thinking back over the past few days and realised that they had often been seated together. If Mary was ever to be attracted to a man, he was precisely the sort Elizabeth thought she might go for – a quiet, conservative clergyman.
“Perhaps Mary may not wait so long to follow Catherine into marriage as we may have thought,” Darcy whispered to her, watching them as well. “Captain Stanton’s brother is unmarried, is he not?”
“He is a widower,” Elizabeth said. “But I do not think such a thing would be an issue for Mary.”
“We will have to watch them both more closely, if he is indeed courting her.”
“I am not sure if either of them thinks of it as a courtship yet, but yes, this did rather catch me by surprise.”
They were interrupted by the arrival of the Fitzwilliams, followed shortly after by Lydia and Mrs. Bennet, and Elizabeth and Darcy busied themselves with introductions for the guests who were not already acquainted, which in Lydia’s case was most of the party. Lydia had, thankfully, not yet managed to acquire any crepe, but she could not receive hopes from anyone of her husband’s safe return without some degree of hysterics, both from herself and her mother. Elizabeth noticed Georgiana and Captain Stanton sitting on the edge of the room, looking grave, and was glad when Mr. Parker entered and told her dinner was ready, so that she could call them all to make their entrance.
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Dinner was a quick affair, but then, it had always been intended to be so, a comparably simple meal to hold them until supper. They had not attempted to recreate Lord Anglesey’s trick of precedence in the dinners at Pemberley, and so as the dinner parties had grown, Georgiana found herself sitting farther and farther from her fiancé, but had not minded it so much until tonight. They had spent much time together in the last few weeks, and in three days, had the promise of so much more. Neither of them was well-situated for conversation on this evening, though, for it appeared Lady Catherine had dominated the discussion on Captain Stanton’s end of the table, while Georgiana had endured the discomfort of sitting next to Lydia Wickham, who would speak of nothing but her poor husband.
It was impossible for Georgiana to turn her mind away from all the news of the day, and she still could not settle on how she felt about it. Certainly she felt the utmost happiness at seeing Edward returned – tempered, of course, by the loss of his arm. But to think of Mr. Wickham as dead, as gone from the world, was very strange indeed. She could not help but feel relief for Lydia – although it did not seem that Mrs. Wickham felt that same relief – to no longer face a lifetime married to such a man.
