Autumn 1817
Elizabeth Bennet Fitzwilliam tousled her young son’s hair as he hugged her tightly. He was a sturdy young man of four and some months who favored his father, the deceased Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam.
As he left her to join Nanny at the parlor door of Netherfield Park, Elizabeth was delighted to see her sister ruffle the golden curls of Richard Thomas Bennet Fitzwilliam’s head. Though he would never know his father, the small boy was afforded the abundant love and support of the Bennet and Bingley families.
The man who had married her sister lifted the little boy high above his head to spin him about the entryway inducing a gale of excited squeals and giggles that caused Elizabeth’s heart to squeeze with a mix of emotions. It ought to be Richard hoisting their son into the air.
But Charles Bingley had given them a home under his roof when Richard had been called away to war. When word came of Richard’s death months later, he had told Elizabeth she and the babe must always consider Netherfield home. When her son was much older, she would take him to meet Richard’s family.
When her husband was still living, there had been an estrangement between him and his parents. Elizabeth had never known the details. The problem in her eyes seemed to be that his mother was determined to chart the course of his adult life. He was the second son and had no interest in the heiresses she marched before him at every opportunity. But Richard had been adamant that his parents were cut out of his life.
Her heart gave another twist when she heard young Richard join his cousin Rose in calling Mr. Bingley Papa. Rose Bennet Bingley was Jane and Charles’s first child and Jane was now increasing with their second.
The designation of Papa for the man who was young Richard’s uncle came entirely from the fact that her son had come into the world months after his own father perished in the war. Charles always gently reminded the boy he was Uncle Charles.
When the children had gone upstairs with Nanny, Jane and Charles came to sit with her. By the expressions both held, Elizabeth knew some news had come to them.
A stable boy from Longbourn had come earlier in the day with a letter her father had received in the post. Mr. Bingley’s demeanor after he left his study with the letter in hand was subdued.
Elizabeth had noticed the looks he and Jane cast her way all through luncheon. They were concerned and cautious and the tension in the room left Elizabeth in trepidation. She spoke slowly to control the tremble in her voice that would silence her if she allowed.
“What has happened, then? Father must have thought he could not break the news to have sent it here to you Charles. There has never been a time when he could not confide in me.”
Jane looked to her middle and clasped her hands together. That settled it for Elizabeth, something dire had been written in the letter but she could not think what might be worse than the death of her husband.
Charles stood, his agitation too great to allow him to remain seated. “This letter comes from London, Lizzy. It is from the Matlocks. They request your presence in a meeting with their solicitors.”
Elizabeth swallowed hard and blinked. She had not planned to meet them so soon and certainly not to make the existence of her son known to them while he was still so young.
If there was one memory she had of Richard and the strained relationship with his mother it was that he was adamant there was no need to include his parents in his married life.
Richard’s words rang in her ears as Charles stood with the letter unfolded in his hand.
“She would do all in her power to part us, Lizzy. As the second son of an earl, my lot in life was to marry a wealthy young lady. The fact that I have not only shunned my parents wishes but married a woman they would never accept would vex my mother until she made our lives miserable.”
Charles’s voice brought Elizabeth back to the present and a cold chill chased up her spine.
“The letter says that Richard’s brother perished in a fire that swept through his club in London three months ago. The Matlocks shall name a male relative as heir since both sons are deceased.
The solicitors began a search for any offspring either Fitzwilliam son may have had, though there was no reason to believe either had bastard children. The War Office replied with the news that you are Richard’s widow and a search was made that led them to Longbourn.”
Silence enveloped the trio and the sound of the tea cart as the maid rolled it in from the hallway was a welcome return to the safety of Elizabeth’s everyday existence.
Her world had just been altered in ways she could not imagine navigating and she glanced up to watch the maid pour the tea. The woman’s quiet efficiency calmed Elizabeth and she breathed deeply before reaching for her cup.
When the maid left them, Jane began her efforts to ease Elizabeth’s mind. “Charles and I shall go with you to London, Lizzy. You will not be alone.”
Elizabeth looked at her sister in disbelief. “I have no intention of going to London now or in the near future, Jane. Though I appreciate you would stay by my side if I entertained such folly, there is little chance of such a trip.”
Charles moved to sit beside Elizabeth. “You cannot think that if you avoid them in London they shall not make the trip to Hertfordshire. Richard marrying without their knowledge or blessing is not to be borne, Lizzy. They shall come here and question you about his last days and grudgingly settle his portion of their estate upon you. Surely you understand the truth of the matter?”
Instantly, Elizabeth realized Charles was correct. A family such as the Fitzwilliams would never accept that she would not come to them in London. If Richard’s description of his mother were true, her controlling personality would not allow her to ignore Elizabeth’s existence. Her son would have to be revealed much sooner than she ever hoped. The reality of the letter and the end of her security at Netherfield weakened her composure.
She leaned heavily against Charles and he placed an arm about her shoulders. “Your son shall come to know the rest of his family, Lizzy. It will be a wondrous thing for him to have another set of grandparents who will surely love him. He is the next Earl of Matlock, you know.”
Charles’s last words sent Elizabeth to her feet and fleeing the parlor. Jane called after her and Charles stood at the parlor door calling her name as she rushed upstairs to her rooms.
She wanted to go to her son and hold him close to her in motherly concern. He would pick up on her mood and become a handful for Nanny so Elizabeth pushed away the need to have him near.
In her room at last, she paced to and fro her mind reeling in confusion. Just this morning her son belonged only to her and in the space of a few hours he was the next heir of the Matlock title and fortune. Elizabeth stopped her pacing and hugged herself tightly. He had been the next Earl of Matlock for three months now. It did not change the fact that he was her son.
The thought comforted her and Elizabeth went to the window seat that looked out upon the gardens. It was the late Autumn and the blooms had faded and were gone. Still she found comfort in the rich colors of the leaves that gathered where flowers had bloomed only a month before.
She thought of the hours she and Richard had spent in the gardens of both Netherfield and Longbourn. Theirs had been a happy courtship, for Richard was sharp of mind and ready with quips and teases that kept her laughing.
They had met one day while she was in Meryton with her younger sisters. Lydia and Kitty were positively giddy over the young soldiers that paid them far too much attention.
Elizabeth had been standing outside the bookseller’s shop perusing a novel she had bought when the Colonel approached. She recalled the words he spoke that piqued her interest. “If a book is well written, I always find it too short.”
A wide smile crossed her lips at the memory. Richard had adored the fact that she was well read. He had no use for ladies who netted purses or sought only to adorn themselves to catch a husband.
Though their time together had been far too short, Elizabeth had respected and loved him with all her heart. She had determined she would not fall in love with a soldier and pine over him as her younger sisters did, but Richard was kind and amiable. And so very dashing in his red coat so that she found she could not resist his attentions.
She wished for the thousandth time that he was still alive to help her know what to do for their son. She did not believe he would have kept his son away from his family. Young Richard would have been a way for him to repair the broken relationship with his parents.
Rising again, she determined to walk the grounds of Netherfield before finding her way to Longbourn to seek her father’s counsel. He would tell her, as Charles had earlier, that she must take her son to meet his family.
Determined to hold on to the last days she and young Richard would have without certain interference, Elizabeth made her way back downstairs to retrieve her spencer.
When she pulled open the great front door, a breeze swept her skirts about her legs and leaves twirled along the drive of Netherfield. Elizabeth took it to be an omen. Winds of change had come to her doorstep and there was no delaying the inevitable. She was a Fitzwilliam, as was her son, and they both must own the name Richard had given them.