Chapter 8

One day, Will entered his wife's study and sat in the chair near her desk that he always occupied when he visited her there. Elizabeth finished what she was writing and looked up warmly. Happily, although everything else was topsy turvy, Elizabeth and Will were very much all right. Will had been Georgiana's guardian for long enough to know what Elizabeth was suffering, and bore her moods with infinite patience and love.

Darcy remembered all too well his constant fear since his father died and left Georgie in his charge. The fear that he would do it all wrong, or that something dreadful would befall her that did not ease until he married his wife, who gave him confidence in his sister and his care of her. He remembered too well the incident with Wickham, how easily it could all have gone wrong, and the nightmares that had plagued him for many months after. He knew the clawing terror that Elizabeth and her stepmother and sisters felt at all times. He also knew that they were all too aware that the more time passed, the less likely it was that Kitty would ever be found.

As his wife greeted him lovingly, and asked if he needed something in particular, he drew her to sit with him on a sofa and said, "Mrs Dashwood has written to me asking if she and Margaret should go to the Delaford parsonage with the Ferrars. She says she has written to you several times, and you have not responded. She fears their presence might make us feel awkward at Pemberley now. She wishes you to know that she loves you, and is very grateful for all you have done for her and your cousins, but she does not wish their presence to cause you pain. I am not sure that would be how you feel, however, for I know you have understandably abandoned much of your correspondence. How would you like me to reply to her?"

Elizabeth sighed and her lip trembled. "I cannot make myself do it. I cannot put the pen to the paper and write to our friends and family that she is still missing. I cannot bring myself to write to them that she is not found." She cried in her husband's arms for a time, and when she had done and they had talked more, Darcy wrote a reply to Mrs Dashwood:

Pemberley House,

Mayfair, London

My Dear Aunt Dashwood,

Please do not alarm yourself at the lack of communications from my wife, your niece Elizabeth, at this time. As you can imagine, Elizabeth and her family suffer greatly from many fears for Catherine's welfare and their grief is profound.

Lady Darcy has currently abandoned all of her personal correspondence, for she finds it too painful to write to her friends and relations that Catherine is still lost. She spends all of her time directing the investigation, and taking care of the twins, who are doing very well and growing quickly.

Lady Darcy wishes you to know that she holds no resentment towards you or Margaret, and it is her greatest wish that you will both remain at Pemberley, as we all agreed last summer in Brighton.

We have no immediate plans to return to Derbyshire at present. Georgiana will make her debut soon, and though Elizabeth will not attend many events, we will remain in town long enough for my Aunt Matlock and Mrs Fitzwilliam to help Georgiana make a good show of it. Elizabeth will not presently entertain the idea of returning to the country before Kitty is found, so our plans remain unfixed.

I enclose a newly drawn set of maps of a region of The Orange River in Africa that I know Cousin Margaret had been studying before we left Pemberley. The explorer, Mr Livingstone recently returned from his expedition, and I made certain to request a copy of the maps as soon as his return was announced in London. I attended his recent lecture with Georgiana, which was vastly interesting, and I believe these maps will answer Cousin Margaret's uncertainties about landmarks that were previously questionable.

Please do not hesitate to write to me if there is anything that I can do for your comfort or happiness at Pemberley. We are glad to know you are there. Please extend our fond regards to the Ferrars, and all of our family and friends that reside at Pemberley and Delaford Parsonage.

Your Servant,

Darcy

Many weeks passed and in late April the time for the Debutante Ball arrived. Elizabeth was so filled with grief for Kitty she could not bear to look upon her ballgown when it arrived. Elizabeth cried all afternoon when the delivery was made, and later that day, Darcy ordered the gown locked away where Elizabeth could not see it. She tried her best to be supportive to Georgie, feeling that the young girl must find it very hard to have her debut overshadowed by such events.

Georgiana insisted that Elizabeth's feelings were entirely to be expected, and that Elizabeth should not feel guilty. Indeed, she felt that attending the season was entirely ridiculous when her family was going through so much hardship. Her brother and Aunt Matlock had convinced her that it was best to get it over with and be done with it, and she would do so for their sake. Much time and expense had been made to prepare for Georgiana's debut, and she could not imagine expecting Elizabeth, her brother, and her aunt to go through it all again next year because she had wasted their efforts by crying off.

Granny Rose turned up unexpectedly in London shortly before Georgie's presentation, and insisted that the family ought not be surprised that she would be present to sit with her friends and watch over events carefully as her only granddaughter took on the ton. Darcy teased his grandmother that she had only come to town to show off her pearl tiara, and his grandmother had laughed and pretended to swat him with her fan.

Elizabeth and Granny Rose would not see The Queen during the presentation, because since they were not presenting Kitty, they would not go through to the Throne Room when Lady Matlock went in with Georgiana. But they waited in the ballroom, and congratulated Georgiana when her curtsey had been made. Her Majesty, ever a friend to Elizabeth, had spoken to Georgiana and Lady Matlock for far longer than any Queen had ever been known to do during a presentation.

When Georgiana's debut ball was held at Matlock House, Georgiana's acceptance by society was sealed when His Royal Highness' brother, who was well known to Elizabeth, and was in London visiting his family, attended a few moments of the ball with some of his friends from court. He distinguished Georgiana by asking to open the ball with her, and after such a display of approval by The Royal Family, there was no question about Georgiana's acceptance by society.

Word came from the cook at Longbourn through Mrs Nichols that Mr Bennet had abandoned the place entirely some time ago. The household funds had depleted, and wages had not been paid to the cook or the stableboy who had left behind. Sufficient household funds had not been left to feed these servants, and there were beginning to be problems caused by tenant and farm neglect. Richard and Mr Banks went to Oxford accompanied by Mr Phillips, who they stopped to pick up in Meryton. There they learned that Thomas Bennet had been welcomed back as an Oxford Don, had been provided a handsome house by the university, and had no plans to return to Longbourn during his lifetime. He had no plans to direct the tenants to plant or harvest the fields, order seed, or maintain the property in any way. He had his new horse and his income from the thirty thousand in the percents, and now that he was back at Oxford, he had all he had ever desired.

Significant coercion was used, but Richard and Mr Banks were able to pressure Mr Bennet into giving up his rights to Longbourn, placing the property irrevocably in trust for his heir presumptive, under the condition that it would be managed by the Darcys until the boy reached his majority, enabling Will and Elizabeth to make improvements to the property in preparation for the boy to take over management once his education was complete.

Bennet was certain his life was better now that he was away from Longbourn with his money. His new horse had gone lame, and he was certain his new housekeeper was cheating the accounts, but at last he had peace and quiet, and when he did want company, there was never any lack of intelligent conversation to be had in the neighbourhood or at the university.

Without overtly making any announcements, once the papers had been signed, Elizabeth and Darcy began improving Longbourn. A new housekeeper was installed. Mrs Bennet was consulted, and she swore she could never live in the house or the village without her husband and maintain her reputation in the neighbourhood. She could visit without her husband without too many questions one day perhaps, but if she returned there to live as a separated woman, she could not face her friends, so she would not return to live there.

Work began on the house. A spacious new wing was built, adding five more bedrooms, a small ballroom, a new drawing room, and a proper library separate from the master's study. A new roof was installed, the interior was completely repainted, elegant yet simplistic new mouldings and wall coverings were installed. Longbourn was still a modest estate, so Elizabeth did not go mad with numerous bathing rooms, but three bathing chambers were installed in the manor, one for the family to share, one for the guest wing, one for the servants, and one small water closet on the ground floor for visitors.

Most of the furniture was kept, but refreshed with new fabrics. New draperies were ordered, and even a modern new kitchen, a proper summer kitchen, and new bedroom furnishings for Cook in thanks for her assistance with the terrible footman Cuthbert. There was quite a bit of land for sale in Hertfordshire, some of which even bordered Longbourn. One piece was a large section of land, about a hundred and fifty fertile acres, being sold off from their property by a neighbouring estate in financial difficulties. The other was a large and prosperous farm, with seventy-five acres, and a very genteel and handsome farmhouse. In all, once the new purchases were officially made part of the Longbourn parcel, the acreage of Longbourn had grown from four hundred acres, to six hundred and twenty-five.

A young man had purchased the seventy-five acres and built the farmhouse two decades ago, hoping to add to his land later, take on tenants, and become a proper gentleman in time, but then experienced several family tragedies, losing his wife and children to epidemics, and sadly, when the nearby land became available, he had to admit he would likely never be able to afford it and what was the point, with no children? When the Darcys enquired about his property, he sold his farm and farmhouse to them with alacrity, and moved to Yorkshire to help his sister, who had just lost her husband, with her tenancy.

Elizabeth was very happy with the new addition of the farmhouse to the property. Not to be confused with a mere farmer's cottage, this genteel early Victorian farmhouse was a newer construction, under twenty years old, and a very attractive structure. Boasting a welcoming drawing room with space for a handsome pianoforte, a private family parlour, a small book room, and a dining room that could comfortably seat sixteen on the ground floor, five bedrooms, another small parlour and master's study on the first floor, as well as ample space above for attics and a small servants quarters, Elizabeth deemed the place perfect to serve as a dower house for Longbourn in the future. She had never liked to see Mrs Bennet's frustration and worry, and whoever her godson's progeny turned out to be, Elizabeth never wanted another Longbourn wife to fear the hedgerows.

Future dowagers would have a respectable home in which to entertain in a genteel manner, ample rooms for unmarried children or family visitors, and a household that ought easily to be managed with only a cook, two maids, and a manservant under a modest budget. She held no reservations about spending money on an entailed property. She told Will that if the estate was improved, then the future security and welfare of everyone who lived there in the future would be improved, and it was her family's responsibility to contribute to the estate's future prosperity, no matter who inherited it, as a matter of honour and pride.

Mr Bennet could have easily provided for his wife and children while contributing to the future prosperity of Longbourn, but he had been too indolent. Elizabeth would rectify the matter. The Darcys ensured the farmhouse and extra land became an irrevocable part of the Longbourn entail, and added a clause to the entail that all widows and unmarried daughters of Longbourn must be allowed to live in the farmhouse for their lifetimes. As per her habit, Elizabeth had the house painted, fabrics and upholstery refreshed, and installed a bathing chamber, a water closet for guests, and boilers.

Richard was appealed to in the search for a steward for Longbourn from amongst his educated officer friends, and an untypically educated tenant farmer had taken oversight of the estate in the meantime. Not only were all of the modern farming techniques that Bennet had known of for years and refused to employ put into practice, but the tenant cottages were also improved and enlarged, just as at Pemberley and Netherfield. Darcy expected that Longbourn's income would grow from just under two thousand a year, to thirty-five hundred or four thousand, within the next three or four years. If more land that bordered the estate became available in the next few years, the Darcys would acquire that as well. It was Darcy and Elizabeth's hope that when young William Collins took over his inheritance, he would have a smoothly running estate of perhaps five or so thousand a year, and would be able to provide for his mother and any wife or children he might have admirably.

Charlotte knew, of course, that the Darcys were up to something at Longbourn. She knew of the trust, and she knew from her parents and brother that much work was being done to the house and the property around Longbourn, but she could not say anything to Elizabeth about spending too much money on her son's future estate, because the estate still officially belonged to the Bennets, and was under the Darcys' guardianship. Since it did not yet belong to William, it would be presumptuous of Charlotte for her to suggest that they should not do whatever they wished with it. She only hoped Elizabeth would not go too mad and that her son would grow up to be a dependable and worthy caretaker of the estate one day.

*****

The investigator eventually returned from the continent, having found the viscount and his wife. The viscount submitted to the interview most willingly. He stated that when his father presented his marriage as a fait accompli, he informed him that Kitty was married and out of the country already but never said to whom or where she was going. He tried to explain that his father had the wrong lady, but that he would give Miss Dashwood up entirely, he did not wish for her to be in such danger from his own father which was why he had hidden his liaison with her in the first place. He always planned to marry her, but he had avoided Darcy, because he knew his father would never allow it and that he would have to elope with the girl, and so he had been attempting to court Marianne without attracting attention to his activities. He never dreamt his father would react in this way. He promised to do whatever his father required of him before anyone else was harmed, but his father insisted Kitty was already married and gone, and hopefully had set an example for whatever other young lady at Pemberley had unacceptable aspirations. The son had immediately capitulated to his father's demands for his marriage, not wishing for anything untoward to happen to Marianne if he resisted.

It had been when Willoughby sent his father an express after his wedding night, informing him that he had saddled his son with a young woman who was already visibly pregnant with another man's illegitimate child, and was due to deliver in only a few short months, that the duke himself had suffered an apoplexy.

Willoughby, having returned all correspondence with his father's seal or from his father's household since, was unaware of the apoplexy, but did not concern himself with rushing back to manage his father's affairs. He had decided to punish his father for having interfered in his affairs so cruelly. He would exact revenge against the duke by keeping his wife and claiming her child, who may even inherit someday. Willoughby could not care less about the bloodlines or the dynasty. The investigator confessed to Montague that from hearing the viscount speak of Miss Dashwood, he believed the man was actually in love with her, and might have married her if he could have. The pertinent information from the interview was that still, no one knew where to find Kitty.

Elizabeth received a letter from Mrs Ferrars at Delaford Cottage, revealing that Marianne had lied, and the consequences of her secret meetings were now making themselves known. At first the symptoms had not been apparent due to her illness. Now they must decide what to do with her, and while Elinor and her husband thought it may be best for Marianne to go away and give her child away to be adopted, Marianne swore that no one would take Willoughby's child from her, and she demanded that someone be found that she could marry and be allowed to keep the babe.

Such gentlemen did not grow upon trees, but they could often be found in the army. There were always second sons and impoverished men in the regulars and the militia looking for wealthy wives to support their need to sell their commissions and live in relative comfort and safety. Some of them were willing to overlook much unpleasantness. Elizabeth and Will asked Richard to make inquiries. Elizabeth offered a dowry of twenty thousand, twice what she had settled on Elinor, in order to compensate for the inconvenience of another man's child, and ensure there was something in trust for Marianne. Richard returned with information on an officer that he knew who was retiring his commission as Captain after an injury that would not leave him visibly maimed or crippled, but the doctors did not think he would be able to father children.

Captain Miles Spencer was an inoffensive looking man. Not fatally handsome, but the sort of everyday looking gentleman that many females would not find accepting to be a hardship. His teeth were good, as was his breath, body odour, and hygiene. His manners were open and friendly, and there was nothing whatsoever objectionable about his person. When asked why he would consider such an arrangement, he confided, "I did not expect to inherit, Lady Darcy. I am a younger son, and my elder brother died in a hunting accident this year. I am the last male member of my immediate family, with a mother and two younger sisters, a modest estate of three thousand a year with no dower house, entailed onto an American slave owner who is a third cousin that no one knows or has ever met. And I am told now that I myself will likely never father a child.

"If this child that the lady in question has is a boy, I will raise him as my own, and he will be born in wedlock and I will be sure to name him in my will as my son and heir, which is all that is required to satisfy the law. This would give my mother and sisters a measure of security, as my father left them very little. If it is a girl child, I will still raise her as my own, and I am told that a portion of the young lady's dowry will be kept in trust for them. So, this solution, Lady Darcy, would make the young woman and her child respectable, her fortune will provide her with her own security, and my share of her dowry can be used to improve the security of my mother and sisters, who will love her, I assure you. My mother is so afraid of penury that she will not care a whit where the child comes from, he will be her grandchild who will save her from being homeless. She will love and accept Marianne and the child no matter the gender, because at least we will have tried all we could. I have spoken to my mother, and she agrees, it is providence that Marianne and I were sent to help one another."

Elizabeth did not disagree with his reasoning, for he seemed a kind man. She showed him the settlement, which was different from the others she had managed. She and Darcy had discussed it at length, as well as by express with Mr and Mrs Ferrars. Marianne was different from Elizabeth and her sisters. She was reasonably well educated, but she was also impulsive, selfish, and wild. The sort of wife who could destroy a family if she had too many freedoms and no one to check her. In the last few months alone, she had risked her family and extended family's reputations, caused her cousin to be sold away into marriage, violently assaulted her younger sister, and fallen pregnant out of wedlock. Elizabeth thought Marianne had enjoyed rather too much independence, and could now do with a measure of stability.

Marianne desperately needed someone who could deny her the opportunity to run mad and ruin her whole family. So, the settlement ensured that five thousand each would remain in trust for Marianne and her daughter, if it were a girl, and the remaining ten thousand would go to her husband. If the child was a boy, however, the portion of the dowry that remained would revert back to Marianne upon her husband's death, because the boy would inherit Spencer's estate.

It was also agreed that Spencer would use a portion of his share of the dowry to build a comfortable dower house on his estate and the rest would go into the percents. The interest of Marianne's share would provide her pin money, and the rest would go into trust for her future. The Darcys or the Ferrars, however, would have the right to remove Marianne and her child from Spencer's house if he prevented her from communicating with her family, or if they suspected she was being mistreated.

Elizabeth told him that the decision would ultimately be Marianne's, but that he had the Darcys' blessing to travel to Derbyshire with his mother to meet Marianne and obtain her agreement to his proposal. Darcy went with him to the archbishop to obtain a special licence so that the two could be married immediately if Marianne agreed. If nothing else, Captain Spencer's estate was near Plymouth, which was nearly as far away from Maplewood or any of the viscount or duke's properties as it was possible to be without actually leaving the country.

The journey was made, and the proposal rendered and accepted. An express arrived from Mr Ferrars that Marianne and Captain Spencer had married within a week, and had left with his mother to travel to Marianne's new home. The party stopped a week later in London, and visited Pemberley House before travelling on. The new Mrs Spencer did not meet Elizabeth's eye, and so softly did she speak while taking tea at Pemberley House that she could barely be heard. Elizabeth thought it had been rather past time that the girl had been humbled, and hoped it would be long lasting, but she rather doubted it.

Mrs Spencer's new mother-in-law was extremely helpful and grateful to her new daughter-in-law for the chance to save her home, and Elizabeth worried she might rather spoil the girl even more, or worse, turn on her and become her enemy if the babe turned out to be a girl. Elizabeth insisted that a nurse from the order in London would be sent out monthly to check on Marianne, and would remain a month before the child was expected to assist with the birth and the selection of a nurse maid for the family. The new couple and mother-in-law continued their journey to Plymouth the following day, and Elizabeth hoped that her young cousin would make an effort to find happiness with her new husband.

*****

The maid in charge of the new ladyship, whose name was Nancy, and among the household now went by the surname of Corrigan, spent all of her days caring for the new mistress and bearing her companionship, not that the girl seemed to require any. Corrigan had never seen any evidence of the supposed nervous condition, but continued to dispense her ladyship's tonic as directed by the master. His lordship never visited his young wife's rooms at night, as far as the maid could tell. He did, however, join her in her breakfast room or her dining room for meals perhaps once or twice a week, so that he might learn more about her, and do what he could to improve her spirits. The man felt terribly guilty about this young lady's fate, but he would not have left it past the duke to drown the girl in a sack like a litter of unwanted kittens if he had declined to take her to wife.

He had no desire to spend time with the girl, or to live with her as his wife, despite her youth and beauty, but he did wish her to be as comfortable as possible in his house. He had agreed to keep her away from society, but he had never agreed to neglect or abuse her in any way. His new wife rarely spoke to him or to anyone, and it was some weeks before he was able to determine that she enjoyed listening to the pianoforte but not playing, and that she had some very small proficiency at the harp. She enjoyed drawing and painting above all, and she was bored and unhappy at the disruption to her studies. His lordship was chagrined to know he had wed a girl who despite her age, had not completed her education, or even made her debut. Never even had a proper season in London, the poor girl. And she said she was the wrong girl; her cousin was the one the duke had wanted. He was horrified to learn that this had happened to her because the duke's heir was courting her cousin, and the man had ruined the wrong girl. It was a shame.

Her elderly husband then furnished one sunny corner room having many windows on the floor on which the young lady lived as an art studio, with everything that could possibly be needed for an artist to draw or paint to their heart's desire. The view of the park and the countryside from this room was unrivalled, and should give his young bride a great deal to look at and draw inspiration from for some time. After a great deal of questioning regarding the lady's literary interests and academic pursuits, another room was outfitted as a small library, filled with books on all of the subjects she claimed to have been studying as well as novels, classics, and poetry, with a promise to refresh the volumes and add new ones as often as she wished. The maid, Corrigan, was to visit the local music master twice a week to receive pianoforte lessons so that she might learn to play for her mistress, since the lady herself did not enjoy playing the instrument. The music master was under the impression that the young maid was learning in order to entertain her reclusive employer.

His young wife asked once, if now that she was married, and no longer an impediment to the powerful duke's wishes, if she might be allowed to write to her sisters to assure them of her well-being. The gentleman could not bear to tell her no, so he took her letters, which of course were never sent. As the weeks passed, and she was assured no response had come from her family, the young mistress fell into despair, frightening the elderly man and her maid. The only bright spot in her life was being allowed into the walled garden to sketch and draw. She did not like the footman who escorted and watched her and her maid to the garden, and tried to explain to Corrigan that the man frightened her for some reason she could not explain, and asked if there might not be another footman who could be assigned to the task.

The maid had to inform her mistress that since her husband's first wife had died, and his son had caused him so many troubles, his Lordship had let go of nearly all of the house staff. Only the cook, two maids besides herself, and one footman, who was also the man of all work, were retained. His lordship kept one gardener, who did not live on the estate, but came daily to maintain the gardens, and a gamekeeper. Otherwise, most of the rooms in the manor had been closed up, and the footman in question was responsible for all of the indoor work usually expected of the male servants, as well as the care and feeding of his Lordship's last two horses, and driving his carriage. Sadly, there was no one else to accompany them. The young lady did not like the way the servant watched her, and avoided any interaction with the man as much as she could, which was easy, considering she spent her days alone with Corrigan.