“—it is nice to have a change of scene and society?” Elizabeth finished Jane’s explanation in a teasing voice. Her sister, face now turning red, nodded and took a sip of her tea. “I understand,” Elizabeth continued. “You and Charles had three children in the first four years of marriage, whereas Fitzwilliam and I have had only the one. Thomas is a delightful handful, but I can only imagine the stress of having to cope with three—even with the help of a nursemaid.”
“I am sure Mama would have been most happy to come and help you had you asked,” Jane said.
“In point of fact, I did ask her. Not because I thought she would be as sympathetic as you or that I desired her company to that degree, but mostly to prevent her from running off north to be with Lydia and her twins again. Lydia takes such advantage of Mama, you know, and it vexes me greatly. Just because they can never seem to keep a servant for the nursery is no reason for her to call on Mama every few months so Lydia can have a break.”
“Mama could say no if she wanted to,” said Jane gently. “But I believe she likes to be needed. And Lydia is the most similar to Mama in personality and has always been her favorite.”
Elizabeth heaved a sigh. “I know. But there is one consolation: Papa gets to enjoy some peace and quiet when she is gone.”
Jane giggled. “He will be able to spend all his time in his library, reading without any guilt. I feel sorry for Kitty and Mary though. They will likely be bored to tears without our mother.”
“Well, it is only for a month or so. Then Mama will be back to disrupt life at Longbourn as usual.”
Chapter 2
Mrs. Bennet longed to retire to her guest bedchamber and ease her frayed nerves. Her twin grandsons were cute but such a trial. They fussed and screamed if they did not get their way, and today they were fighting loudly over a favorite toy. The screeches and tears! Mrs. Bennet had no one to turn to for help as she was alone in the cottage, Lydia having left for a dress fitting earlier that day.
“Mama, I cannot possibly take Gerald and Edward with me; they will be far too disruptive,” Lydia had said after breakfast when she announced her intention to leave the rambunctious three-year-olds behind with Mrs. Bennet.
“But this is intolerable. With your husband gone for days on end with business matters, you really must hire a nursemaid!” Mrs. Bennet had looked forward to a pleasant visit with her youngest daughter and son-in-law, making calls in the neighborhood, and shopping with limited exposure to the twins.
Lydia pouted. “If Papa would send me more than twenty-eight pounds a year, I likely could. But as he won’t see fit to assist his only daughter who did not marry a wealthy gentleman as Lizzy and Jane did, I must do the best I can. I can only stretch our finances so far, Mama.”
“But what am I to do with them while you are gone?” asked an exasperated Mrs. Bennet.
“They will be fine. Just give them some of the taffy George brought home from his last trip. That will keep them happy.” And before the argument could continue, she had flounced out.
Or make them even more high-strung than usual, more like, Mrs. Bennet thought. Oh, why did it have to be all left to her? It had been some eighteen years since she had had to deal with children that young. She had forgotten how much energy it took. And she had been able to afford help.
She grabbed the toy the two boys were squabbling over and held it high.
“Neither of you can have this until you learn to behave! Get your coats. We are going for a walk.” Perhaps a lengthy span of exercise out of doors would tire the children sufficiently to calm things down.
At least, I hope so. Yet I fear I shall wear out before they do.
***
Lady Catherine De Bourgh was in high dudgeon following a visit by her nephew Colonel Fitzwilliam. Not that he had done anything in particular to annoy her. On the contrary, he was as polite and well-mannered as ever. He even paid her daughter, Anne, several compliments when her normally reserved daughter read two newly composed poems to her cousin.
No, Lady Catherine was put out because of the news the colonel shared that her nephew Darcy and his wife—whose name was never mentioned if possible—were expecting another child. With a second child (possibly another son) to be born, there was even less chance of his regretting his poor choice and divorcing her. Lady Catherine’s hopes of ever marrying Anne to Darcy, as she and her sister had once planned, seemed all but impossible now.
Her brooding was interrupted by a servant who announced that Mr. Collins had arrived unexpectedly. Ever since Darcy had married the best friend of Charlotte Collins, Lady Catherine had construed some of the blame for the match to be the Collinses’ fault. After all, it was Elizabeth Bennet’s visit to the Hunsford Parsonage that gave Darcy the opportunity to fall under the wily spell of that fortune-seeking hussy. Yes, technically she may be the daughter of a gentleman and therefore Darcy’s equal, but in Lady Catherine’s mind there was no way that upstart Elizabeth could ever live up to the standards that her sister, Lady Anne, had upheld at Pemberley.
The result of linking Elizabeth’s advantageous marriage to Darcy because of her relationship with Mrs. Collins meant Lady Catherine had nurtured a sizeable grudge and had sent fewer invitations to the Collinses in the past few years. Whereas before the marriage, Mr. Collins would visit by himself nearly five times a week and the couple was invited to dinner regularly, ever since Darcy had wed Miss Bennet, such invitations had dwindled considerably. And she often instructed her butler, Jonson, to tell Mr. Collins she was “indisposed.” But today she nodded for Jonson to escort the rector in.
As Mr. Collins waddled into the salon (he had gained quite a bit of weight in the past couple of years, she noted), his hands were clasped together, and his head bobbed in a subservient, albeit not displeasing, manner.
“My dear Lady Catherine,” he gushed, “How good of you to see me.” He bowed before taking a seat on the settee to her right. “I wanted to be the first to share the happy news with you.”
Lady Catherine raised an eyebrow but remained silent.
After a moment, he continued, “I hope you will be as happy to hear my news as I am to deliver it. My dear wife, Charlotte, is expecting our first child! Is that not splendid?”
“Is it?” she asked dryly.
Mr. Collins gave a nervous laugh. “Well…that is…we have been married for nearly five years now without producing any children, and I feared my wife might be…I mean…it was entirely possible she would be unable to give me a child at all. So naturally, we are both enthralled at the prospect of parenthood. I pray for a son, of course, as every good man should, but if it be a girl, we are agreed to name her Catherine after you.” He sat back, panting a bit as though the telling of such news had been nearly more than he could handle.
“I see. And I suppose you would wish for me to become godmother to the girl—should you have one—provide her with a substantial stipend, no doubt, or a fat dowry to attract a good match. I suppose you might even hope for me to leave her a legacy in my will—usurp my own daughter for yours!” Even as she knew her response was less than polite, Lady Catherine could not stop herself from berating the cleric.
