Elizabeth
Elizabethwentintogreaterdetail concerning her actions the previous day while taking tea with Suzanne and Mrs Heinz. The housekeeper amused Elinor with stories and little games, leaving the ladies to their conversations. Lady Westland once more commended Elizabeth‘s prudence and resolve.
“I had a similar experience after Lord Westland died,” Suzanne confided. “It happened more quickly in my case, yet it was no less cathartic, I assure you.” She took a thoughtful sip of tea. “Will you part with the house now? Perhaps you might let it.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “I am uncertain what I wish to do. As I told Mrs Heinz, Jane and Bingley might wish to use it. My future brother wishes to own an estate, but he cannot purchase Netherfield Park. He may abandon the notion when he learns Longbourn will pass to Jane’s eldest son. They may also wish to spend time in town after their marriage. Should they decline it, I might look for another tenant.”
“If…never mind.” Suzanne reached for another cake, feigning absorption in the tray to disguise her hesitation.
Elizabeth regarded her curiously. “You need not fear to speak. What could you possibly say to offend my sensibilities?
They both laughed, and when their mirth faded, Suzanne finished her thought. “If you marry Mr Darcy, you will have no need for another house in town. Leasing it is wise, particularly if you mean to leave it to one of your future children.” A flush stole into her cheeks as she looked aside.
“Do you hope to have more children?” The question escaped before Elizabeth could check it. She had never pictured any besides Elinor, yet the idea stirred a tender yearning, and she imagined dark-haired children at play on a wide green lawn.
“I do.” Suzanne’s smile softened. “It will feel strange, for Arthur is nearly thirteen; yet the thought of sharing children with my Henry fills me with delight. He treats my son as his own—in short, he is an excellent father, and I wish to give him children who bear his name.”
Their talk turned presently to the room around them. They examined the furnishings and discussed improvements. “I should like a pair of easy chairs by the fire,” Elizabeth observed. “Everything here was chosen for display rather than comfort. The house had just been newly decorated when I first came here—” She broke off.
“And your husband likely forbade any alteration,” Suzanne supplied gently. “I know how that feels. When my husband died, I refitted the town house and my favourite rooms at the estate. It helped efface his presence.”
“It seems foolish to redecorate when I have no intention of staying.” Elizabeth gathered Elinor onto her lap. The child yawned, and her mother’s hand moved through the soft curls until she slept. Mrs Heinz curtseyed and withdrew, rewarded with a warm smile as she went.
“But if it aids your healing, why deny yourself?” Suzanne’s look grew intent as she leaned nearer. “Pray consider it.”
A brief nod was her only reply. Soon after, they returned to Godfrey House. She welcomed the change of subject; thoughts of the past still unsettled her, and she would not dwell on them longer than needed.
The meetings with Suzanne’s future in-laws passed most agreeably. Elizabeth found the ladies amiable and well-bred, and Mr Blythe a true gentleman in every particular. His admiration for his betrothed could not be mistaken, and Suzanne listened to him with such fond attention that they put Elizabeth in mind of Jane and Mr Bingley. She could not but rejoice in her friend’s happiness, and as she watched them together, the last of her former misgivings faded away, leaving only the quiet hope that she might one day know such felicity herself. For once, the prospect before her seemed bright with promise.
Suzanne and Mr Blythe married soon after Twelfth Night. The ceremony was small, witnessed only by family and intimate friends. Suzanne admitted she had not informed her former mother-in-law, the senior dowager countess, of her intention to marry.
“It serves the old bat right,” she observed with a mischievous glimmer. “She has interfered with my life from the moment we met.”
The new Mr and Mrs Blythe departed for a brief wedding journey, leaving Elizabeth at Godfrey House with the children. During that time, Arthur was much in her company. He was to go to Eton on his mother’s return, and one afternoon he confided his fears. “What if the other boys do not like me?”
Elizabeth laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Promise me, Arthur, that you will do nothing foolish merely to be liked. You are an intelligent, honourable boy. Others will value you for those qualities. Those who would have you act against your principles are not friends in truth; and should you yield, consider the pain it would cause both you and your mother.” He seemed comforted, and she trusted her counsel would remain with him.
While the Blythes were away, Elizabeth received two letters from home. The first, from Jane, she opened eagerly, hoping it might at last contain her wedding date.
Longbourn, Hertfordshire
10 January 1812
Dear Lizzy,
I hope your time in London brings you the understanding you seek. I miss you dreadfully, yet know you are doing what you must. The house feels quiet without you and Elinor. Is my niece enjoying her stay?
My engagement has been everything I could wish. Mama parades us about Meryton, and our neighbours have offered congratulations many times over. I shall come to town in April to shop for wedding clothes, for our mother insists that nothing at the local modiste is fine enough. For my part, I care not what I wear, for I am the happiest creature alive!
My future sisters-in-law have been civil, though distant. Miss Bingley, I am certain, is disappointed; she clearly wished for her brother to marry elsewhere. She cannot know the extent of my dowry, for Papa has kept our change of fortune private. Mr Collins’s visit gave every appearance that Longbourn remains entailed, and some neighbour must have carried the tale to her, for she often remarks—so compassionately!—that it is a pity that our father’s estate will go to another. I sometimes wonder whether she would consider me a more suitable match if she knew my son is to inherit Longbourn. But I have not told her; she needs no such information. My portion is handsome enough—what more could she require?
Charles is the dearest of men. Yesterday he brought me flowers from the Netherfield hothouses—you are to thank for that, for you ordered their repair when you returned to Hertfordshire. He seldom visits without some trifling token.
Mr Darcy went north in December to spend the holidays with his sister. He promises to return for our wedding, though I regret to say it will not be until the end of May. Mama protested vociferously when we proposed an earlier date. She bewailed the hastiness of your marriage and declared it unfair to be denied the delight of planning an elaborate wedding once more. I could not bear to distress her and so agreed. I shall endeavour to be patient.
I hope to see you again soon, my dear sister. The winter months creep by, and I miss you more with each passing day.Promise you will come to us before long.
Yours ever,
