Chapter 4

Elizabeth sat in the carriage outside Matlock House regretting the small meal Jane had insisted she eat that morning as her stomach turned and twisted. Charles stood expectantly at the carriage door with his hand out for hers. “Come Lizzy, we must go inside before this miserable rain soaks through my greatcoat.”

Charles smiled confidently as Elizabeth placed her hand in his and left the safe harbor of the Bingley carriage. The time had come to visit the ghost of her husband’s past.

Taking Charles’s arm, she walked carefully up the steps of Matlock House and waited as Charles lifted the brass knocker. The door was wide and painted a deep, midnight shade of blue, only a few shades darker than the color of her son’s eyes.

A butler swept open the door and welcomed them. In moments, Elizabeth and Charles were escorted into the long parlor one flight up the stairs. All heads turned as they were announced and Elizabeth was surprised to find Mr. Darcy rising to stand at their arrival.

She kept her eyes on him for a moment, a familiar face in a room made cold by much more than the steady rain now thrashing against the windows of the parlor.

A maid entered as an air of charged tension filled the room. Elizabeth watched as she tended the fire and lit another lamp near the desk where the Matlock solicitor sat.

When she had gone, a man of Mr. Bingley’s height crossed the room and stood before them. He turned when he realized his wife had not followed. “Margaret please come. Do not leave our guests waiting.”

The regal woman who must be Margaret Fitzwilliam stood and moved reluctantly to her husband’s side. Elizabeth could see the resemblance to her son and fought the urge to place a hand over her mouth.

Richard had gotten his height from his father but he had been his mother’s son in appearance. Elizabeth could only stare and give a small curtsey to her son’s grandparents.

When Lady Matlock pinned her with an icy blue stare that matched young Richard’s perfectly, Elizabeth found her voice. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Matlock. Richard spoke often of you.”

Elizabeth saw the mask of indifference shift for only a moment before moving confidently back in place. “Shall we be seated? I do not expect our meeting to last more than an hour.”

As the lady turned and made her way back to her seat, the Earl of Matlock gave a pained smile. “Thank you for coming today, Elizabeth.”

His use of her Christian name endeared the man to her, but Elizabeth could not think of how to respond to the unexpected welcome given in a nearly hushed whisper. Before she might answer him, Reginald Fitzwilliam turned on his heel and went to sit with his wife.

Mr. Darcy greeted Mr. Bingley and Elizabeth as they made their way across the room. “Charles, how long have you been in Town? I have not seen you at the club.”

“Only a fortnight, Darcy. Jane and I are expecting another child soon and I spend the evenings with her.” Charles replied without any warmth.

Elizabeth found herself a bit surprised by her brother’s behavior. For all their differences, Mr. Darcy had once been his best friend.

Mr. Darcy turned his gaze to her, his discomfort plain on his face. An awkward silence followed as his mouth opened and closed several times. It seemed he was at a loss for words. At last he managed to speak. “I was not aware you had married my cousin.”

“Richard would have told you, but I think he did not wish for his parents to know,” Elizabeth’s voice faltered.

Mr Darcy nodded in understanding before giving a slight bow. “It is lovely to see you again Miss…er…Elizabeth.”

Her name sounded strange on his tongue and the hitch in his voice as he spoke it confused her. His voice betrayed a depth of emotion she had not expected. He and the colonel must have been quite close.

“Likewise, Mr. Darcy,” she said before Charles led her to a seat and the solicitor began his pronouncements.

“Mrs. Fitzwilliam, the War Office has provided the information that you are the widow of Colonel Richard Purvis James Fitzwilliam. As such, there is a settlement due you by his parents, the Earl and Lady Matlock. A townhome here in London will be offered rather than a monetary settlement.”

Mr. Bingley turned to Elizabeth and whispered his thoughts. “While I am certain the home in Town is most generous, you must insist upon a stipend.”

Elizabeth knew her brother spoke the truth. Since the Fitzwilliam’s had no knowledge of their grandson, they would not understand her insistence on the money. It mattered not as it was her decision to refuse or accept the townhome.

“I would prefer a monetary settlement if the Fitzwilliams are agreeable. The stipend from the War Office is not enough to keep a townhome, you see.”

Margaret Fitzwilliam made a noise in her throat that assured Elizabeth she had just made a terrible error. The earl placed a hand upon his wife’s arm. It was a gesture of restraint but Lady Matlock would not remain silent.

“What sort of lady refuses the most generous offer of a London townhome?”

Elizabeth maintained her composure, “I would only sell it, Lady Matlock. Is that what you would prefer? Perhaps it would be best if your solicitor and mine met privately to work out an agreement. I do not wish to make enemies of my late husband’s family.”

She stood abruptly and Charles hurried to join her.

Mr. Darcy and the earl stood and Elizabeth was surprised when the gentleman from Derbyshire suggested a far more generous offer than his aunt and uncle.

“If Richard were living, he would be the next Earl of Matlock and nothing would be denied him from the family coffers. Mrs. Fitzwilliam, as his widow, shall have the same consideration. I will not accept less as it is your wish I become your heir, Uncle Reginald.”

Lady Matlock pushed past her husband and Mr. Darcy and approached Elizabeth. “You married my son because of his connections but you shall be terribly disappointed to find yourself returned to Hertfordshire without a penny. Oh yes, I had your family investigated. There is not enough wealth there to provide a decent dowry for any of your unmarried sisters. You shall remember this day and your insolence and weep for what might have been.”

Elizabeth closed the distance between herself and the lady. “I knew nothing of Richard’s connections until after we wed. To me, he was a soldier and a gentleman of character. I never understood his reasons for turning his back on his own mother, but I must say you have made it quite clear this afternoon. Good day.”

Turning swiftly away and taking Mr. Bingley’s arm, Elizabeth quit the room. Her heart raced from the confrontation until she thought she might be sick. “Take me home, Charles, to Hertfordshire. They shall never know the truth.”

Mr. Bingley did not argue with her, for now was not the time. Mr. Darcy found them by the front door as the butler called for their carriage.

“Elizabeth,” he began, his agitation removing all pretense, “Wait! My aunt is not herself. She has lost both her sons and her grief is a bitter one. Please allow me to escort her to her rooms and then you may speak more plainly of your needs to my uncle.”

Elizabeth wondered at his insistence. The advice he’d given his uncle only moments ago had surprised her as did his entreaty now.

“Mr. Darcy, I would never discount the suffering of a mother but I cannot agree to their offer. It is best settled however they see fit with my solicitor. There is nothing to be gained by remaining under this roof and subjecting myself to their censure. It breaks my heart to know Richard came from such a family.”

Mr Darcy could not argue her point. A strong urge to wrap Elizabeth in his arms and assure her his family would provide for her as she wished overcame him. He maintained his composure though his heart skipped a beat in his chest.

“I will tell my uncle you have accepted the offer and see that a suitable sum is deposited into an account for you here in Town. They cannot stand against my wishes or they may lose me as their heir.”

Elizabeth did not know what to say. Mr. Darcy looked at her with such pleading it pricked her heart. He held his own grief for Richard.

Her eyes softened and a small smile played at the corner of her lips. “Sir, your support is appreciated. I had not thought you would be an ally when I saw you there in the parlor. After all, you were not fond of me when first we met in Meryton. I recall your insult to this very day.”

His face burned a deep crimson and Mr. Darcy shook his head. “I was most unsettled that evening. You must forgive me for the foolish slight. It was Charles’s insistence that I dance which brought out the worst in me.”

Mr. Bingley laughed and placed a hand on his old friends shoulder. “Tis true, Lizzy. Nothing makes him as cross as a ball.”

“Every savage can dance, Bingley!” Mr. Darcy said as he winked at Elizabeth.

“My forgiveness at the slight is yours, sir. I do not wish to leave here without at least one friend from amongst Richard’s family.”

Lady Matlock’s voice, strident with anger, found them and Elizabeth took Charles’s arm. “Let us go, brother. I do not wish to argue with her again.”

Mr. Darcy watched the woman he admired leave with his friend as his aunt appeared at the stairs above him. “You have no right to go against us, Fitzwilliam. She will have nothing, I tell you!”

“Aunt Margaret, you do not mean that. You loved Richard and he loved her enough to marry her. We shall do all we might to honor his memory by caring for his widow. She is family, after all.”

Lady Matlock glared at him and turned away. “Reginald, take me upstairs. I cannot abide his disobedience another moment. He is worse than even Richard was in his last years.”

Darcy grimaced as his heart twisted at her meanness. Richard had been far wiser than he to leave the Matlocks and live his own life.

How Darcy wished he might do the same, but he could not allow the family fortune to be broken apart or lost. It was never the title he cared for but the legacy of the Fitzwilliam family. He would marry one day and provide the heirs his cousins had not. Fortunes and titles must be preserved.