Jane Austen’s Jewel Box – Elizabeth Darcy’s Ring – Part Three – Jane Odiwe

I am so enjoying writing this new work, and I am so grateful for all the fantastic feedback I’ve been getting, along with all your lovely ideas which I’m keeping a record of and hope to include as I go. If you’ve missed the beginning, here are Part One and Part Two. Last week, we left the story just as the French cousins arrived – here’s Part Three – I hope you enjoy it, and I’d love to hear your ideas!

It was impossible to feel ill at ease with this brother and sister who were so open and friendly that she stopped worrying about her appearance. Georgiana could not think that she’d heard of these French cousins before, or ever heard her aunt mention their name, but she shook hands warmly.

‘I do apologise that my brother is not here to greet you, but he is out on business this morning. He is not expected to be long and I know he will be looking forward to making your acquaintance so much. Do come in and make yourselves at home. I am sure my aunt will be so glad to hear you’ve arrived … I will take you to see her at once.’

Mrs Reynolds immediately saw Georgiana’s hesitation and took charge. ‘Miss Georgiana, if I may be so bold, might I suggest that I show our guests to their rooms so they can settle in. I am certain Lady Catherine can wait a little longer to be united with her family … I believe Miss Anne de Bourgh and Mrs Jenkinson are expected from Scotland within the hour and her ladyship will be much taken up with other matters.’

Georgiana heard the wise housekeeper’s words with relief and knew that the kind lady was thinking of her. She knew her state of dress and unruly hair would be the subject of much unwanted attention and disapproval from her aunt, leading to many questions she would not wish to answer. If Lady Catherine found out she’d been out riding by herself, there would be trouble. She smiled to herself at the thought – goodness, how much things had changed since darling Lizzy had come to Pemberley. Not that she was very sure her new sister or her brother would be so pleased that she’d gone out by herself, but filled with a sense of confidence returning, an assurance such as she’d enjoyed in former years, her feelings had been followed. It was so long since she’d listened to her heart, and when the sparkling, crisp morning had beckoned with the idea of a ride across the fields, she’d given in to temptation.

‘Mrs Reynolds, what a perfectly splendid idea,’ said Antoine, turning to beam at his sister. ‘I would not like to disturb my cousin at this hour … we will meet at a more convivial time.’

His sister caught Georgiana’s eye and smirked. ‘Not to mention the fact that our cousin would be scandalised by our early arrival. Thank you, Mrs Reynolds, I know our late invitation must have caused you some extra work, but Lady Catherine insisted, as soon as she discovered how close we were to Pemberley. And your brother is so kind, Miss Darcy – such a generous gentleman in accepting us as if it had been his very own idea. We received a letter from him just this very morning.’

It was plain to see that Mrs Reynolds had taken to the young couple immediately. ‘There can never be too many young people at Pemberley, Miss de Valois, and there are rooms enough for many more. I’ve known Mr Darcy since he was a small boy and generosity is his middle name, if you understand me. Come along now, if you please, we’ll soon have you comfortable.’

Georgiana watched them ascend the staircase followed by Bramwell and the footman laden with luggage. She wasn’t quite sure whether she’d imagined it, but when they reached the top and before they turned off along the corridor, she saw Antoine turn to look back down at her. It was as if he’d known she’d be staring after him and she felt her countenance suffuse with crimson at his discovery, as he winked knowingly before disappearing from sight.

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When Elizabeth arrived at the farm, such an air of desolation seemed to emanate from the very building itself that she wondered if she had the courage to go inside. All the family were crowded into the tiny chamber to say their last goodbyes to darling Neddy, but for all their sorrow, Lizzy thought she’d never known such love as she witnessed there. It touched her heart to see the care taken of each and every one, be they adult or child, as she observed their kind words and small gestures. No dramatics or poor nerves in this household where there simply wasn’t the time or money to feel sorry for oneself, and in the midst of their grief, Mr and Mrs Fretwell showed extraordinary consideration for Lizzy’s feelings and comfort, making her feel truly humble. Fortunately for poor little Neddy, his struggle was not of long duration. Lizzy held his hand, felt his breath whisper her name, before watching him slip away peacefully, almost as if he was slumbering, soft cheeks and cherubic lips lit by glowing candlelight in the dim room.

‘We cannot thank you enough for coming, my lady,’ said Mrs Fretwell, whose brave countenance helped Lizzy to keep in control the waves of sadness washing over her. ‘He’d taken to you like no other, and you made his last days as happy as they could be.’

‘Oh, that I could have done so much more …’ Lizzy faltered, she could not trust herself to speak again, and giving her leave, promised to visit the family again very soon.

The carriage ride home from the Fretwell’s farm was not an easy one as Elizabeth recounted the afternoon to herself. Overcome by her feelings she pulled down the glass of the carriage window and leaned out, taking in gulps of the sharp, frosty air. Looking up to the heavens in a bid to stem the tears that threatened to spill over her cheeks, she could not think how she would ever become immune to such heartache as she now felt tearing through her soul. The responsibility she felt for little Neddy and his family was all consuming, and she couldn’t help thinking she had not tried hard enough to save him. What else could she have done? Once more, Elizabeth questioned her suitability for the role she’d taken on without considering all its consequences. How did Fitzwilliam manage so capably, day in, day out, knowing that he held the lives of so many in his care? Elizabeth rapped on the roof, signalling Saxton to stop. It would never do to go home in tears. She must compose herself; take a walk, if necessary. Yes, she’d feel well again after a few minutes of walking.

Despite Saxton’s advice to the contrary, Lizzy assured him she’d keep to the footpath that ran over the fields to the village of Lambton. She knew she’d have to face Lady Catherine on her return and it would never do to have red-rimmed eyes and a swollen nose. Nothing ever escaped that lady’s attention. The path traversed the fields exposing nuggets of Derbyshire limestone, rippling along the edge of the woods like a ribbon snapping in the breeze. It felt good to stride out, the silver sun brightening the landscape with shafts of light filtering through the clouds in fans of pearl and oyster, even if it failed to dry the tears on her cheeks which ran against her every attempt to stem their flow. If only Fitzwilliam were here, she knew she would feel better and the thought of his handsome face with those dark eyes twinkling as they had this morning, gave her a new strength. The walk was getting tougher as the hillside inclined, but with each step she took in a lungful of the soft air. On reaching the top, she had to stop, halted by the sheer loveliness of the scene, which unfurled like an exquisite Turkey rug in shades of emerald and viridian, umber and ochre. It took her breath away and for a moment she felt all loss, fear and anxiety, ebb away. It was very hard to understand why life happened as it did sometimes, but the sense of something greater at its heart, a world where such beauty existed, was illuminated in the picture at her feet and gave her hope. And then she saw him. As if summoned by her thoughts alone, her beloved Mr Darcy grew from a tiny speck in the distance to a vision of all she held dear, seemingly sent from above.

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‘Kitty, don’t cough so, have some consideration for my poor nerves,’ said Mrs Bennet, as the coach lurched along. ‘My bones have been rattled enough in this old bone-shaker without you adding to my distress.’

Kitty heaved a sigh and swallowed a rising cough as best she could. At least they were on the last leg of their journey and she hoped she would soon be separated from her moaning mother, snoring father and whining sister, to be ensconced in her own palatial chamber. There was no limit to Kitty’s imagination and her mind was filled with silk sheets, Persian cushions and golden chandeliers.

‘Too many card parties, that will account for her coughing,’ said Mary, with a disapproving nod towards her sister. ‘I do not think it wise to give Kitty such freedom, Mama. Fordyce says it’s the ruin of many a girl’s health!’

Kitty gave into another fit of coughing and watched Mary turn to a page of her favourite book. She knew Fordyce’s Sermons so well, Kitty imagined it would not be too long before Mary had it off by heart.

‘Here we are,’ continued Mary, tapping the page with her finger, ‘Cards …what numbers sacrifice their health and spirits … pursuing it in the country with the same unabating ardour as in the town … preferring the suffocating atmosphere of perhaps a small apartment where they regularly, every day if possible, crowd round the card table for hours together!’

‘Oh, Mary, a few cards never hurt anybody,’ Mrs Bennet interrupted loudly, ‘though perhaps Mrs Lucas ought to use more caution with her offspring. It’s all very well to play for a few ivory fish as Kitty and her friends do, but those Lucas boys have all the makings of fine gamesters, if you ask me. Not to mention their fondness for a tipple – drinks a bottle of wine a day, that young Tom does.’

‘Mama, that’s not quite what he said,’ Kitty rejoined, who was very fond of young Thomas. ‘He was talking about what he’d do if he was as rich as Mr Darcy, if I remember correctly, and said he’d keep a pack of foxhounds too. He was just showing off as all boys do.’

‘Well, that’s how it starts,’ declared her mother, wagging her finger. ‘You mark my words.’

Mr Bennet opened one eye at this last exclamation, swiftly shutting it again in realisation that his pleasant dream world had descended into nightmare reality.

Mrs Bennet lapsed into a kind of silence, as quiet as she could ever be, whilst she tapped her finger against the glass. It was plain for all to see she was replaying the conversation in her mind, convincing herself that she was right all along. With her lips pursed one moment, and her eyes rolling in the next, the simultaneous quivering of feathers on her bonnet and the shaking of her carefully coiffured curls was a comic sight, and one which had Kitty biting her lip with mirth, until a shriek from her mother made them all turn in alarm.

‘Stop the coach! Stop the coach!’ Mrs Bennet rapped her knuckles hard on the roof.

‘For pity’s sake, Mrs Bennet, what on earth is the matter?’ Mr Bennet was wide-awake now.

‘It’s the Darcy crest – on that coach over there – looking somewhat abandoned! Oh, my dear, they must have been attacked by highwaymen!’

Mr Bennet peered forward in his seat. ‘Drive on,’ he called out after a second or two, ‘there’s no need to stop. ‘Girls, come now, occupy your minds with something other than foolishly gawping out of the window.’

‘Good heavens, what an exhibition!’ cried his wife. ‘Who can that be, Mr Bennet? Did you ever see …’

Kitty, who was not even staring, was now forced to look. Following her mother’s astonished gaze, she looked across the fields to where two people could just be seen sheltering under a tree. And, just before the blinds were brought down with a snap, she glimpsed exactly what she ought not to see. It was a man and woman, oblivious to the world, in each other’s arms and kissing passionately.

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Mr and Mrs Darcy did not notice the coach that passed by on the road. They had far more important matters on their mind. Enveloped in his cloak, Fitzwilliam pulled his wife closer until he had her right where he wanted her – or almost so, as close as was possible, given that he was backed up against the broad grey trunk. Seeing her in tears was tearing him in two. She’d hardly been able to speak at all, at first, and then as the day’s events had tripped from her tongue like water lapping stones in a brook, they’d quietly gathered momentum until a vast waterfall flowed from within, a torrent of frustration with his aunt, her deep sadness at the loss of Neddy, and the feeling that her entire world was spinning out of control. Love, and the primitive need to protect her took hold of him as he murmured reassurances, and gently brushed away her tears, swiftly followed by the usual intense desire, the thrill of seeking her soft lips with his own, relishing their fullness, drinking in her own special scent with every breath. His hands cradling her waist, he felt her respond, kissing him back, pressing into him until he could feel the bark of the old oak, hard against his back. The moment for words was gone – they were lost in love.

Fitzwilliam’s tender kisses and kind words worked their magic. Elizabeth could hardly bear for him to stop but at last she pulled away to look searchingly into his eyes. ‘Oh, my darling, I am so sorry.’

‘Whatever for, Lizzy? You would not be the girl I adore if you were immune to such happenings – I know how much you loved little Ned Fretwell – no one could have offered more compassionate care or comfort to the family. You are learning that to be my wife is a difficult task. Not only have you taken on the most irascible man in Derbyshire, but you’ve sole charge of all his tenants too. It’s no easy mission.’

Elizabeth laughed. ‘But, I want to make you proud of me, even if you are the most difficult man in the North country!’

It was Mr Darcy’s turn to laugh at her teasing ways. He pulled her closer, lowering his lips on hers once more. When he reluctantly pulled away, Lizzy could see he was still concerned, and a frown, such as she’d been used to seeing when he first came to Longbourn all that time ago, wrinkled his forehead. His mood had changed in a heartbeat; Fitzwilliam’s eyes looked darker than ever beneath the full black brows, glittering with anger. ‘And, as for my aunt, you have absolutely nothing to reproach yourself, Mrs Darcy. How dare she make you feel like a stranger in your own home – as for the ring – dear God in heaven – it’s the last straw!’

‘Fitzwilliam, please do not be angry, my intention was not to set you against your aunt. I should not have relieved my feelings quite so ardently.’

‘No, do not fret, Lizzy,’ Mr Darcy said, peppering her face with kisses again before he drew back to gaze once more into her beautiful eyes. ‘This has been coming for a long time. I feel no ill-will towards my aunt, but she has to realise that I am the sole master of Pemberley, and you are its sole mistress!’

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I hope you enjoyed this week’s episode – I’d love to know what you think, and please include any suggestions you have. I think fireworks are in store for Part Four, which will be published in a fortnight’s time – Friday, March 21st!