Reunited at Rosings (Sweet Standalone Pride and Prejudice Variations #5)

Chapter 5

December 3, 1812

Colonel Fitzwilliam arrived on the cusp of a snowy afternoon, just barely missing the flakes that began to float to the ground as he was ushered inside. Georgiana gave a soft squeal of delight as she hastened toward their cousin, barely giving him time to take off his hat. “Dear cousin, it is so good to see you!” she exclaimed. She leaned up on tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek, no doubt surprising the Colonel.

“You honour me, dear Georgiana. I am glad to see you as well. It has been far too long.” He winked at her. “I feared you might have forgotten me.”

Darcy strode up to him and slapped him good-naturedly on the shoulder. “It is good to see you.” He took his cousin’s hat and gloves and handed them to the butler.

“Nonsense. It has not been so long that I could forget you. Besides, who could forget their favourite cousin?” Georgiana went on.

They entered the drawing room, which had been prepared for his arrival with a cheery fire blazing in the hearth and tea and refreshments to replenish his strength after the long journey.

Colonel Fitzwilliam and Georgiana sank onto the settee and Darcy took a chair opposite them. Fitzwilliam covered her hand with his and looked at her with sincere concern. “You look very well, little cousin. And your spirits seem better than what your brother described to me last autumn.”

Darcy shifted, knowing what his cousin referred to. As Georgiana’s second guardian, Fitzwilliam naturally knew of Mr Wickham’s attempt to draw her away into an elopement so he might get his hands on her generous dowry. Thankfully, Fitzwilliam was a sensible man and would never repeat something that would get back to Lady Catherine, thus bringing more shame on Georgiana. Darcy gave thanks once again that he had stopped them in time before she had been forced into marriage with the blackguard. Unfortunately, he could not save Lydia Bennet from that fate. Instead, he had been forced to bring it about, for the alternative would have been still worse. Darcy’s heart clenched as his thoughts turned to the foolish girl who now found herself wed to Mr Wickham. Likely she was already regretting her choices to the acutest degree.

Georgiana hung her head for a moment. “I am feeling much better, thank you.” She gave a tight smile. “And seeing you has lifted my spirits all the more.”

“You are too kind, Georgiana.”

Suddenly, the door opened, and Anne joined them. Darcy and Fitzwilliam stood, bowing to her as she curtsied. “Colonel Fitzwilliam, how glad we are to welcome you to Rosings,” Anne said. Odd — her voice sounded unusually breathy. Darcy studied her face to see if she was showing signs of coming down with an illness. Anne looked rather as though she had jogged to the drawing room, which he knew was impossible, as she never jogged anywhere. He glanced at Fitzwilliam and noticed that his cheeks were also slightly flushed.

“How do you do, Cousin Anne? I trust Darcy here has been behaving himself?”

“He has, most assuredly. He has been teaching me all about the estate and how to run things until Mama is recovered.” Anne looked away shyly, then turned her attention back to the colonel.

“And how is my aunt?” he asked, his voice softening.

Sadness tinged her voice when next she spoke. “Mama is recovering slowly. Although she has recovered her powers of speech, the doctor says it is unlikely she will ever have the strength to rise from her bed.”

Fitzwilliam let out a sad sigh. “I never thought I would see the day.”

“Nor did any of us,” Anne agreed.

Darcy thought it interesting—out of all the men Anne had occasion to come into contact with, she seemed most at ease with Fitzwilliam. He turned to study his newly arrived cousin. He was a tall man, with reddish brown hair and a pleasing face. Any lady would be lucky to find herself wed to such a man. After all, his cousin had risen in the ranks of His Majesty’s armed forces since entering them nearly a decade before. Not to mention being the younger son of an earl.

“Well, I am at your service should you need any more help whilst I am here. I may be a military man, but my father still taught me about the running of an estate.” Fitzwilliam smiled, and they were all seated again. Anne chose a chair nearest Fitzwilliam, which was not lost on Darcy.

“I thank you, Cousin. Darcy has been so good to me these past weeks and months, so patient.” She blushed prettily and looked away. “I am sure he grows tired of my constant questions. Sadly, I am fearfully dull-witted.”

“Do not believe a word she says,” Darcy chimed in. “Anne is as adept at figures and organisation as her mother.”

“Surely you jest,” Anne waved him off. “I am not half the commanding presence my mother is.”

Darcy could not argue with that. However, what he had meant was true—Anne was doing a wonderful job learning all the ins and outs of running the estate, managing the tenants, and being a presence in the village. And she did all with grace, understanding, and genuine care for the people under her employ and responsibility. If only Lady Catherine could have seen how the people had taken to her daughter. There was no need to be condescending and unmoving. Anne’s softer approach had endeared her to the people in a matter of weeks, until their loyalty was granted to her more fully than it had ever been to Lady Catherine. Even if Lady Catherine recovered enough to take hold of the reins again, he was uncertain it would be wise. There would be an uprising, to be sure.

“It is not always the strongest or loudest rooster who wins a fight,” Darcy said. And that was all he was going to say.

Anne caught his meaning, blushing once again. “Well, Mama would like to see you, Fitzwilliam. She told me to come down as soon as you’d arrived and bring you to her.”

Fitzwilliam stood, and they all followed Anne out into the hall and up the grand staircase. “Is she much changed?” he asked, no doubt trying to prepare himself to shield his true feelings from showing in his face.

“Not much as far as her tongue is concerned,” Anne said with a wry smile. “It is only her body that has weakened.”

Fitzwilliam nodded with a chuckle. “Very well then.”

Once they arrived at Lady Catherine’s room, he burst through the door with his hands held high. “Aunt Catherine!” he boomed. “Where have you been? I have had no one to scold me for the mischief I get up to in the militia.” He strode toward the bed and grasped their aunt’s hand. “It is dreadfully irresponsible of you to leave me to my own devices for so long.”

“I am not bedridden of my own volition, Fitzwilliam,” Lady Catherine said, trying to push herself up into a sitting position. He helped her, and Anne readjusted the pillows behind her back. When she sank back onto the pillows, she closed her eyes and winced in pain. “What do you here?”

“I’ve come for Christmas, dear aunt. And I must say I am surprised at you.”

She scowled at him. “Why ever so?”

“I have never known you to be such a slugabed. Your daughter tells me you have been lazing about the sheets these last two months! I tell you, it will not do!”

Darcy held his breath. Out of all the children in their family, Fitzwilliam had been the only one who had ventured close to the line which he walked with their aunt, the only one who had never been afraid of her. And oddly enough, she seemed to respect his cheek in speaking to her that way. None of the rest of them dared. Under the circumstances, Darcy wondered if he had gone too far.

Lady Catherine’s lips quivered for a moment before her mouth broke into a grin and she swatted at Fitzwilliam’s shoulder. “You cheeky thing. I did not call you up here to insult me.”

“Who do you usually call up to do the job? I daresay no one can do it as well as I.”

Laughter rang out through the room. Until Fitzwilliam entered, the bedchamber had felt more like a silent, gloomy nunnery than a home about to come alive with the magic and celebration of the Christmas season. Now that the colonel had arrived, perhaps they could have a joyous Christmas, not overshadowed by the grief and worry that so often accompanied the failing health of an elder.

After half an hour of Fitzwilliam entertaining their aunt with stories of his adventures, or rather his misadventures, from the last few months, she shooed them out of the room so she could rest. Lady Catherine was more smiling than anyone had seen her since her illness began. Darcy was glad to see her in better spirits after Fitzwilliam had worked his magic.

They all left, Anne the last to leave as she made sure her mother was comfortable, and they retired to the drawing room once more. A fresh pot of tea had been provided, and they all availed themselves of the delicacies that the cook had prepared for them.

Fitzwilliam turned serious after all the laughter he had wrought in his aunt’s chamber. “So, is it true she will not recover?” he asked. He seemed saddened by the thought that Lady Catherine could never return to the hard-handed employer and nagging aunt they all knew. Despite how difficult it had been to deal with her at times, Darcy could see Fitzwilliam felt deeply for their aunt.

“She will continue to recover,” Anne corrected him. “However, the degree of her recovery rests largely on her will. The doctor says the episode was not as bad as others he has seen. And while some people make a full recovery, others continue to decline until they eventually pass on. He says she must have something to live for. And I fear if we take away the running of the estate from her, she will have no reason to get out of her sickbed. But if we allow her to take charge again, she may suffer another episode. I do not think her heart is up to the strain of it all.” She sighed. “I know I wonder about myself sometimes.”

Fitzwilliam reached over and took Anne’s hand. “You are young, Anne. Aunt Catherine is not. And might I say, you have never looked as healthy as you do now.”

She blushed under his praise, and even after he released her hand, her cheeks remained bright. It was true Darcy had never seen her looking so well. If only she would don something with colour, rather than the unforgiving black she had worn since her father’s death. Anne would really be quite pretty.

“I want to thank you all for agreeing to stay here through the holidays, and for helping me with the estate. Indeed, I do not know what I would have done if I’d had to do this all on my own.”

“It is our pleasure. And we will continue to help as long as we are needed,” Darcy replied.

Fitzwilliam turned his attention to Georgiana. “How do you fare, cousin? I believe you were saying that things have much improved since last year?”

“Yes, they have,” Georgiana replied. “I must admit that I do get a little lonely sometimes. Mrs Annesley is away visiting family for Christmas, and will not rejoin us at Pemberley until after the new year. Perhaps even until February, depending upon the weather.”

Anne perked up at this. “I should think of no reason you should continue to be lonely, Georgiana. I have heard that Mr and Mrs Collins have family visiting from Hertfordshire — Mrs Collins’s young sister among them. I am sorry I did not think of it sooner, but I shall invite them up for dinner, so you have another young lady to talk to.”

Georgiana brightened at this. “Is she near my age?” She glanced round the room. “I did not mean for it to sound like I am ungrateful. I am always happy to be among the bosom of my family.”

“Nonsense. No one would begrudge you having a little company.” Anne said. “I have been so engrossed with the estate and Mama’s care, I did not stop to think, and I apologise for my oversight, dear cousin. Perhaps I shall write the invitation now?”

“That is a splendid idea,” Darcy chimed in. The suggestion was very welcome. He had also been distracted as of late, especially with helping Anne with the estate. He had not thought of how dull it would be for Georgiana to be here at Rosings, with nothing to do and no one to talk to, while he and Anne saw to things. With Fitzwilliam there, at least he might be able to draw her out of her shyness more. After the debacle at Ramsgate, Georgiana’s natural quietness had deepened into an almost crippling sense of self-doubt, and her recovery was not as quick as Darcy would like. In the future, he would have to take better care to see that she was getting what she needed.

The conversation turned to Christmas and what the plans for the village celebration entailed. But Darcy could think of nothing and no one but Elizabeth. Perhaps he might extract some information as to her welfare from Lady Lucas and her daughter. And more to his advantage, he might find out whether she was amenable to his advances once more.