Harriette and Becky busily arranged her ladyship’s belongings for the upcoming sojourn to town. The Fitzwilliams and the Darcys were travelling together, first to Hertfordshire and then London. From there, their plans centred on a visit in Kent. As much as Harriette looked forward to seeing her nephew, the prospect of both Georgiana and Elizabeth fawning over their children afforded little excitement. How fortunate her older brother, Lord Harry, would be in London as well as in Kent. Should the demands of motherhood command the best part of Georgiana and Elizabeth’s attention, her ladyship would not lack ample amusement very long, for she and Lord Harry were the closest of siblings.
Smiling at the prospect of being sufficiently diverted in London, Harriette looked forward to the reunion of her family. Lord and Lady Stafford had been in town since early January for Parliament. She would spend time with her in-laws as well. What she did not relish was the certainty of seeing Richard’s aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, during Easter.
Everyone had been so delighted with the news of Harriette’s engagement to Richard—everyone except Lady Catherine, his haughty aunt and Harriette’s harshest critic. The elderly aristocrat had been outraged by what she surmised as Harriette’s betrayal, and she clung to her pursuant umbrage with dogged vengeance. What was worse, she had promised to settle the score even if it was the last thing she did.
Lady Catherine had attempted to play upon Harriette’s unabashed infatuation with Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. She tried to persuade the young lady to entice him into her bedroom under the cover of night, so they might be discovered. Never mind that such a discovery would have meant certain ruin for Harriette. Lady Catherine meant to drive a wedge between Darcy and Elizabeth—ideally causing Elizabeth to abandon him. She bargained on the premise that Elizabeth would be too naïve to realise that an unfaithful husband went hand in hand with matrimony in their sphere. Surely there would be a divorce.
Too clever to entangle herself with Lady Catherine’s shenanigans, Harriette put into motion her own scheme. Oh, she intended a dalliance with the man of her dreams, but not on Lady Catherine’s terms. Harriette devised a plan that entailed penning a missive to Darcy and placing it directly in his hand. She had not planned on Darcy then handing the note off to Richard, who claimed that it must certainly have been intended for him. Surely a single young lady would not invite a married man into her bedroom, he had posited. Harriette covered her face with both hands and blew her breath hard—an apt tribute to the bane of her existence.
Becky ceased packing and walked to her ladyship’s side. “Is something troubling you, my lady?”
“Oh, I was simply recalling the night in Matlock when Lady Catherine barged into my apartment thinking she would find me with her nephew.”
“With Colonel Fitzwilliam?”
“No—her other nephew.” She had no reason to be more specific.
Covering her mouth, Becky gasped aloud. “You never told me you had invited him to your room. At the risk of impertinence, what on earth were you thinking?”
What was I thinking? Thank goodness Darcy was an honourable man, far too smitten with his wife to take her up on her proposal. Thank goodness Richard had taken it upon himself to claim the missive as his own and find himself in her bedroom.
The entire incident had happened so quickly only to be interrupted by Lady Catherine’s arrival outside the door. When she forced a servant to open the door, the dumbfounded look on her face and her befuddled cry —‘where is my nephew?’ were etched in Harriette’s memory. From that moment on, Lady Catherine had declared Harriette her adversary, so convinced was she that the young woman had entertained her favourite nephew, Darcy, in her bedroom one night and accepted her other nephew’s proposal of marriage little over a week later.
“Goodness, Becky! You know as well as anyone how much I fancied myself in love with him.”
“And that is your excuse?”
Though far from perfect, Harriette was not in the habit of making excuses for herself. The only daughter of one of the wealthiest men in England, she was in the habit of having her way. Richard had regarded her ill-guarded infatuation as folly—so had Elizabeth. Neither of them held it against her, nor did Darcy, for that matter—or did he? Even though she was married to his best friend, friend to his wife, and godmother to his heir, he rarely spoke more than two words to her outside company. Reticent and aloof is how she regarded him. How Elizabeth bore the taciturn man, she could not imagine. Thank heavens Richard is amiable and agreeable, else I should go mad.
Returning her attention to Becky, who looked as if she expected a measure of contrition to spring forth, her ladyship said, “You need not be so shocked! The point is Lady Catherine knows I was with someone. She believes it was Mr. Darcy.”
“What shall you do about this misunderstanding, my lady?”
“I do not intend to do anything. If her ladyship chooses to believe the worst, who am I to disabuse her of the false impression? Besides, it is far more diverting to have her think what she will.” To Harriette’s way of thinking, it gave the old woman some sense of purpose and added a bit of spice to what must certainly be an otherwise dreary existence. In vexing Lady Catherine as much as she did, she was doing her part as a good niece.
No longer contented to dwell on such unpleasantness as her husband’s cantankerous aunt, her ladyship changed the subject. “Becky, what do you know about the new maid below stairs?”
“Which maid are you asking about, my lady? I am afraid there has been a few comings and goings of late. Mrs. Donaldson says it is increasingly hard to attract new help.”
“I am referring to the one named Annabelle. I met her the other day with two others, Maggie and Sally.”
“Annabelle is lovely, my lady. She is quite shy. She keeps to herself.”
“What do we know about her? Where did she come from?”
“She has not voluntarily confided anything of her past to me, and I have not pressed her to do so. Is there a particular reason you ask? Besides the obvious, that is?”
Harriette sat down on the bed. “So, I have not been mistaken. You noticed a similarity too.”
“If you are referring to her uncanny resemblance to Mrs. Darcy, then yes.”
“Uncanny is an understatement.”
“Have you said anything to your friend, my lady?”
“What would you expect me to say? It is not the sort of thing one mentions in casual conversation—‘incidentally, one of the lower servants bears a striking resemblance to you.’ I know I would not want to be told such a thing.”
“I suppose you are correct.”
Days later, Elizabeth and the baby sat on one side of the carriage. Harriette sat on the other with her hands tucked neatly inside her warm muff. She cocked her head. “Elizabeth, why do I suspect you will be no fun at all in London this Season?”
Elizabeth stopped fussing over her son and regarded her friend curiously. “I am afraid I do not know what you mean.”
“I fear you will be too busy with the baby to attend to those things that young ladies ought.”
“Oh?”
“Indeed—things like visiting the modiste and shopping, attending private dinner parties and elegant soirees.”
“I shall make it a point to attend one or two such outings; however, you know William and I are not as inclined as you and Richard to attend such functions merely for the sake of being seen.”
“Of course. You two behave as though you are as old as my parents and my in-laws. Why, even they attend to requisite social mores with alacrity.”
“Granted, Harriette, my husband and I are not quite as young as you, and now that we have little William, we are rather more settled than you and Richard are. As for the Matlocks and the Staffords, by virtue of their rank and positions in Parliament, they are expected to attend to such social engagements. I do not envy them one bit.”
“I suppose you have a point.”
“Besides, I plan to spend a great deal of time with my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner when I am in town. As you know, they are not as welcome in your world as I would prefer.”
“It is not merely my world. It is just as much your husband’s world.” She blew out a long breath. “We do not make the rules.”
“Indeed you do not, but you do not mind clinging to them.”
Aghast, Harriette looked out the window. What was she to say? Elizabeth had a point. Preserving the social order was important to her ladyship. Though she was particularly fond of her lady’s maid, Becky, seldom did she give a passing thought to any of the other household servants. Not that she considered Elizabeth’s Cheapside relatives comparable to servants. She really did not know what to make of them. She had only met them once before when she and Richard were at Pemberley and the Gardiners visited. They were decent and kind people. Mrs. Gardiner could even be thought of as fashionable. She was intelligent enough. Mr. Gardiner was also kind and gregarious.
In truth, Harriette did not remain in company with them long enough to determine their true worth. They arrived at Pemberley with a bushel of children, perhaps as many as six or seven for all her ladyship knew—at least four or five. She stopped counting.
Elizabeth cleared her throat, effectively regaining Harriette’s attention. She looked at Elizabeth quizzically.
“I said I intend to have a dinner party at Darcy House and my Uncle and Aunt Gardiner will be in attendance. I expect you and Richard to be there as well.”
Harriette bit her lower lip and crumpled her brow. Before her ladyship could open her mouth in protest, Elizabeth said, “No, my young cousins will not be there that evening. You shall not use that as an excuse.”
“Oh, Elizabeth! You are dreadfully hard on me. You know how much I enjoyed meeting your aunt and uncle at Pemberley. I shall be delighted to see them again.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I declare, Harriette, you are determined to make your aversion to children an art form.”
“I am sure it is not as bad as that. Besides, I adore my little godson, and I am exceedingly eager to see my little nephew in a few days.” It had been far too long since she had seen her darling brother, Harry, her dear, sweet sister-in-law, Georgiana, and their infant son, young Darcy.
“Would you like to hold your little godson for a spell? I wager you would benefit were you to practise.”
“Practise? Whatever for? How many times must I remind you of my intention of availing myself to an army of nurses? Besides, Richard and I are in complete agreement. Children must wait. Neither of us is in any hurry to procreate.”
Elizabeth regarded her intently. “You speak with such conviction, as though you have a choice over the timing of such matters.”
Harriette raised her eyebrow. Surely Elizabeth knew better than that. Truth be told, she had always thought both Elizabeth and Georgiana were a bit naive when it came to such matters. She had told them so often enough, but never once had she backed up her bravado with facts, for neither of the two ladies challenged her assertions. Harriette had not spent much of her maiden years largely in the company of gentleman for naught. Though she had accomplished that feat with no harm to her reputation and no challenges to her chastity, she had garnered quite a bit of information from the opposite sex. Such was one of the benefits of growing up so closely with Lord Harry. What information she did not glean from the extensive reading of books, she sought from her brother, who albeit reluctantly, often conceded to her relentless petitions.
Harriette smiled at the memories of her abbreviated courtship with Richard. It did not take her very long to figure out that she was just as naive as she often accused Elizabeth and Georgiana of being. Richard. At that moment, she spotted him outside the window, riding alongside the carriage. The sight of him on horseback, muscles ripping through his jacket, long legs and Hessian boots gripping the sides of his steed, filled her with restlessness. Oh, why did she not dress with the anticipation of riding together with him? That spirit of adventure that made her long to be outside the carriage on horseback, racing with her husband just as they had before their courtship—as she had done so many times with her brother, Harry, invigorated her.
Her spiritedness afforded a great deal of flaunting society’s expectations, but riding horseback without a proper riding habit was unpardonable. Tomorrow, February morning air permitting, she would remember to dress for riding. Let Richard baulk at the notion as he assuredly would. Why should he and his cousin be the sole beneficiaries of the fresh open air?
Tomorrow we will arrive in Hertfordshire where we are to spend time with Elizabeth’s Meryton relatives. Having met Elizabeth’s eldest sister, Jane, and her husband, Mr. Thomas Eliot, two seasons before in London, her ladyship surmised it would not be so bad. After all, he was a gentleman and she was a gentleman’s daughter. Though he had no great fortune to speak of, her ladyship was not so haughty as to look upon them with anything nearing disdain. Some of the aristocrats her family knew and associated with had less wealth by comparison, and by Elizabeth’s account, the Eliots lived on a fine little estate.
The prospect of meeting Elizabeth’s other relatives was cause for concern, however. A Meryton attorney and his wife—what would my father say? That was not the worst of it. Even Elizabeth did not try to hide her animosity that Longbourn, her childhood home, was now presided over by her ridiculous cousin, a Mr. Collins. He had inherited the estate owing to an entail when Elizabeth’s beloved father passed away. Harriette pursed her lips. If half of what Elizabeth says about him is true, what an entertaining few days we have in store.