Rose and Lavender Water 13

Rose and Lavender Water

Part the Thirteenth

It was quite a peculiar sight on Bella’s first morning at Darcy House when Georgiana tried to gain access to their private rooms when Darcy was having his way with her before the servants were even admitted entrance.

“Does this please you?” Darcy asked in a harsh whisper against her neck as he pushed into her in a steady rhythm, his hand palming her breast, an aching sensation building inside her.

Bella tried to bite back a moan, but she nodded vigorously.

“Let me hear you say it,” he begged, moving his lips up to hers in order to steal a kiss.  “I want to hear that I am pleasing you.”

“Darcy,” she whimpered against his mouth.  “Just so.”

He gasped as she shifted her hips the slightest amount and then moaned out her name.  “You are the most beautiful woman in London.”

“Just in London?” she teased, feeling her power over her husband.  “I thought surely in all of Berkshire County.”

“You witch,” he sighed, reaching up and claiming her lips again.  He moved inside her rhythmically and she felt a tension building up inside her.

She was just about to pull him closer by the collar of his nightshirt when there was the sound of the doorknob.

Bella froze and tried to look over Darcy’s shoulder.

He groaned and shouted, “Get out!”  Reaching down, he kissed her again, clearly meaning to ignore the interruption. 

However, the doorknob sounded again and Bella heard the creak of well oiled hinges and she was certain that someone was entering their outer rooms.

“Those damned servants!” he swore, lifting himself out of Bella’s arms and covering her with a sheet.  She felt a sudden swish of cold air, an emptiness that caused her to gasp, and then a weight lifted off of her.  Darcy pushed down his nightshirt so that it fell down to his knees and went to the bedroom door and wrenching it open, called, “I said we were not to be disturbed until I rang the bell!”

There was dead silence on the other side of the door.

Bella pushed her dark hair out of her face and propped herself up on her elbows, wondering which servant (though she had only been cursorily introduced to the household the night before) was being reprimanded.

After a long moment, the clear words of Georgiana answered, hushed and apologetic.  “I am sorry, Fitzwilliam.  I thought I would help Isabella prepare for our morning at Madame de la Croix’s.”

Bella flopped down on her back.  They had been interrupted by an over eager sixteen year old girl who knew no better.

Darcy was silent, but then he sighed.  “It is not your fault,” he told his sister.  “Come back when we call for the servants.  I will, of course, leave Isabella in your capable hands.”

He was met with silence.

“What is it?” Darcy asked.  Clearly Georgiana had not taken his words as a dismissal.

“Breakfast is being served in half an hour.”

Bella saw Darcy run a hand down his face.  “You know nothing of the ways of marriage, Georgiana.  Bella and I will be down later.  As I said, you may come when we call the servants.  You may be breakfasting alone today unless you choose to wait for us.”

More silence.  Then, a small, soft, “Of course, brother,” before the sound of the door opening and closing met Bella’s ear, and Darcy was once again shutting their own door and leaning against it, taking her in.

“It was Georgiana.”

She gave him a small smile.  “I heard.  She means well.”

“Of course she means well,” he agreed.  “I did not realize I needed to leave her instructions as well as the servants.”

He approached the bed and took her in with her wild hair.  “I believe the only silk you own is your wedding dress.”

“I had it sent over to Louisa last night.  It was her wedding dress before it was mine.”

Darcy nodded.  “And the bonnet?  That was not your bonnet.”  He got back on the bed with her and lay down next to her, reaching up and pushing her dark, unruly hair behind her ear.

“I believe it belongs to Caroline.”

“Georgiana is much taller than you,” Darcy mused, regarding his wife for a long moment.  “I suppose you will have to go out in one of your muslins.”

“It is only for a day,” she soothed him, reaching out and touching the skin bared to her by his open collar.  “I have the Darcy name.  Surely Madame de la Croix will not think badly of me for it.”

“No,” he agreed, looking at her adoringly.  “I should certainly hope not.”  Darcy leaned over and kissed her softly.  A moment later, he deepened the kiss and had pulled her underneath him. 

Bella laughed in delight as the sheet was ripped off her and Darcy continued his ministrations.

Georgiana and the servants were not called in for a full three quarters of an hour.

Darcy was just finishing his morning shave as Bella was finishing her bath when Georgiana came in to look at dresses.  “Do you own anything in dark green?” she inquired.  “Or green at all?”

Bella was wearing a robe, her hair put up in her usual severe bun with a pink ribbon accentuating it.  “I believe I do.  At least, I think Mary let me have it.”

She went to her trunk and began to sort through it. 

Annabella, Georgiana’s maid, quickly came up to her and assured her that she could find the gown and within short order it was brought forth and it was presented to Georgiana. 

Georgiana looked at it critically before declaring it suitable for the day before ordering that the ribbon in Bella’s hair be changed to better match the dress.  The rose water had been placed on Bella’s vanity and at the end of her primping, she placed the scent on her wrists and behind her ears, fully prepared for the day.

Breakfast was much like it was at Netherfield Park with dishes placed on the sideboard and coffee being served to them by servants.

Darcy read The Times while Georgiana chatted away about who was in Town and whom they could expect to see at the theatre.

Bella took this all in, not knowing the names of these great families, though knowing she should soon learn them as they were Darcy’s people.

Madame de la Croix was a woman of the French persuasion who was happy to receive the new Mrs. Darcy.  The marriage announcement had been in the paper the day before and, according to Madame de le Croix, it had taken London by storm, even though it was only the Little Season.

“If Lady Whistledown was in Town,” the lady said as she was taking Bella’s measurements, “she would be shocked, absolument.”

“Lady Whistledown?” Bella asked, turning to Georgiana.  “Is she an acquaintance?”

“No,” Georgiana shared.  “She writes the most popular gossip column in Town.  She actually uses people’s names.”

“Is that unusual?” Bella asked, turning back to the mirror.

“Mais oui,” Madame de la Croix declared.  “Gossip columns never use names.  Never, except for Lady Whistledown.”

Bella thought about this for a moment before tucking this information away in her head.  She did not like the thought of being the subject of a gossip column. 

Walking out in a new silk dress in forest green and a new bonnet, she also had three new dresses, a new nightdress, two new corsets, and another new bonnet with much more on order.  That did not count the feathers or the matron’s bonnets in lace.  Bella thought it was extravagant, but Darcy had written to Madame de la Croix with strict instructions and it seemed like Bella was to have an entire new wardrobe.

When she returned to Darcy House, Bella was ready for tea.

Colonel Fitzwilliam was not an infrequent guest to Darcy House.  Bella was struck by the family resemblance between him and the Darcy’s, but they were cousins after all.  That, however, did not explain the resemblance between the Darcy’s and Wickham.  All of them looked like one another.  It was quite startling.

Colonel Fitzwilliam, as well as being an officer, was Georgiana’s second guardian.  He was a man in good temper, though he clearly did not know what to think of Bella.

“Do you play, Mrs. Darcy?” he asked one day after dinner.

“I sing,” she informed him.

“Then we must have a duet,” he decided, looking at Darcy for permission. 

Bella looked over at Georgiana who had already gravitated toward the pianoforte and was looking through the music. 

“Do you sing, Isabella?” she inquired.  “You never said.”

“You were not at the Netherfield Ball,” Darcy told her.  “She sang most beautifully with her sister Mary on the pianoforte.  Bach and Handel, if I am not much mistaken.”

“No, I believe you are correct,” Bella answered.  She looked toward Georgiana.  “Do you perhaps have The Messiah?  I could sing an Air for Alto.”

Georgiana looked up in surprise and turned to a different pile of music, clearly searching for the desired book.  “Ah, I have it just here.”

“Well, then,” Bella decided.  “Let us see what we can agree on.”

Darcy always looked struck when Bella sang.  Georgiana immediately complimented her as soon as she lifted her fingers off of the keys.  However, Colonel Fitzwilliam just stared at her and did not speak for a full fifteen minutes, not even clapping.  His behavior was so extraordinary, it drew the attention of both of his cousins, who shared a glance, Darcy going so far as whispering in Bella’s ear that this was most unlike him.

When he finally came to himself, he drew Darcy aside and whispered hurriedly to him back and forth before leaving abruptly.

Bella and Georgiana watched him in surprise.

Darcy only apologized and asked if the ladies could perform again. 

When Bella and Darcy retired for the evening, Bella undressed and readied for bed, before she asked, “What was wrong with Colonel Fitzwilliam?”

“He is being foolish.”

She nodded but continued: “He seemed most adamant.”

Darcy sighed.  “He has claimed, for three years since, that he was riding through Hertfordshire in a rainstorm, when he came upon a young lady who gave him shelter in her father’s stables.  He claims that when he saw you at the wedding, you reminded him of the young lady most strongly, and he has been angry at me ever since.  Now, hearing you sing, and hearing your voice clearly, he is most certain it is you and you are not merely bringing up past recollections.  Now he is angry with me as he has been in love with the lady in the rain all these years.”

Bella paused, remembering the same story from the other point of view, and turned to him in shock.  “It was Mary.”

“Mary?” Darcy inquired, his verdant gaze surprised.  “Are you certain?”

“Of course I am certain!” she cried.  “We were fifteen.  There were local militia in the area and one had just proposed to Jane but he did not have an independent income.  There was much quarreling in the house as Papa did not want Jane to accept although Jane was much enamored.”  She took a deep breath.  “Mary wanted to get out of the house.  I told her it might rain but she was certain it would not.”  She smiled at the memory.  “I offered to go with her, but she insisted she wanted to be alone.  It did rain.  She was gone for hours.  I was so worried.  When she finally came back, she told me she had met an officer and had hidden him in the stables.  She did not bring him back to the house because she did not wish to stoke Papa’s anger any further.  Mary never told me his name.”  She bit her lip and looked in the mirror.  “Her hair would have been wet with rain.  It would have looked a muddy brown.  Her eyes are blue.  With the grey sky they would have appeared darker.  Did they not see each other at our wedding?”

Darcy shrugged his shoulders.  “It appears not.  Remember, he did not even attend the wedding breakfast and we left for London the next day.”

“Well,” Bella said carefully.  “Should we tell him?  Should I write her?  She is engaged to be married to Mr. Collins!”

“It is not the best of matches,” Darcy reminded her.

“Not from your end,” Bella reminded him.

“Then she has forgotten Fitzwilliam,” Darcy decided.

“No.  No.  She sometimes still brings him up—her officer in the rain.  I am convinced she is still in love with him.  Her match with Mr. Collins is one of convenience, at least on her side.”

“It would solve our problem,” (Bella looked up) “my problem,” Darcy qualified, “of Mary marrying my aunt’s cleric.  However, she has not a fortune.  Fitzwilliam is a second son.  However—” He paused and was clearly in thought.

Bella looked back at herself in the looking glass.  She remembered that she looked so much like her pale faced grandmother, Isabella Swan, who had married a Quileute brave except for the eyes.  Her eyes were pure Quileute.  It was strange how here, now, she looked so much like Mary—or how Mary looked so much like her.

She turned back to her husband of a mere two days.  “However?”

“Fitzwilliam’s elder brother, the Viscount Owestry, is unmarried and is a reprobate who gambles and drinks too much.  He is in ailing health.  He could always marry quickly and beget an heir, but he has shown no signs of capitulating to his family’s wishes.  If he continues to worsen, it could not be an impossibility that Fitzwilliam inherit his brother’s title in the next two, three years, and with it all the accoutrements that come with it.  He would not have need of a fortune.”

Bella bit her lip again.  “You should speak to Fitzwilliam.  Then, and only then, I should write to Mary and invite her for a short stay before her wedding.  Mama will be flustered, but it cannot be helped.”

Darcy stood and crossed the room, cupping her face in his larger hand.

She leaned into his touch.

“You should tell Fitzwilliam.  He will not believe me if I am to tell him.”

“Are you certain?” she asked.  “I am still not certain it is the right course of action.”

“Fitzwilliam adores the ‘lady in the rain.’  He has been devoted to her these last three years.  He has not—he has not strayed.  Not in society and not with soldiers’ usual—entertainments.”

Bella looked up at him in confusion, but he merely stroked her cheek with his thumb, not explaining. 

“It is most fortunate that you and Mary are now of age and Mary’s wedding has not taken place.  There is still time.”

“Barely,” Bella qualified.  “It is barely a month.”

“I fell in love with you in mere moments,” Darcy told her quietly.  “Now, come to bed.  I will send for Fitzwilliam in the morning.”  He reached down and pulled her into a kiss, gentle, kind, and pulled her toward him.  Bella lost herself in the kiss, sure to place her trust in Darcy, and allowed him to sweep her away into their love and lust for one another.

The next morning Georgiana was in the music room practicing the pianoforte, which Bella was beginning to understand was her usual course of study in the morning.  Signor Bellini was with her, now that Bella was settled as the new Mrs. Darcy, although it was only her fourth morning at Darcy House.

Bella herself was sitting in a small morning room, meant for the lady of the house, with a small writing desk and a bright fire.  She had ordered tea for herself, Darcy, and the Colonel, and was waiting for Darcy to bring their cousin to her.

She heard a knock on the front door.

He was here then.

When Fitzwilliam was shown in, he paused when he saw her waiting at the settee and looked back at Darcy questioningly.

“Trust me,” Darcy told him, ushering him further in the room.

“I have ordered morning tea,” Bella told the two cousins, offering them each a seat.  “It is not Miss Darcy’s usual tray, so I hope you shall forgive me if it is not to your tastes.  I am still finding my footing.”

“Not at all, Mrs. Darcy,” Fitzwilliam stated a little stiffly, sitting across from her.  “How may I help you today?”

“I want to tell you about my twin, Mary.”

Fitzwilliam looked at Darcy in confusion.  Then he turned back to Bella.  “Twin?”

“Yes, twin,” she agreed.  “We are identical in every way except Mary has fair coloring.  When her hair is wet it is a muddy brown and when it is dark outside her blue eyes appear darker.”

A footman came in and brought the tea.  Bella waited for it to be placed on the tea table in front of her and began to serve it.  She poured water into the teapot, washed it out, emptied it, and then poured the tea and tea leaves in, allowing them to brew.  She had asked for Earl Grey, her favorite.  She also had lemon and strawberry sandwiches, which she thought went quite well with the tea’s bergamot flavoring.  She hoped Darcy approved.  If he did not, she would try a different combination.

“Three years ago, there was commotion in the household,” Bella told the Colonel.  “Mary wanted to get out of the house.  It looked like it was going to rain and I begged her not to go, but she would.  I said I would go with her, but she insisted she go alone.  She rarely goes out so she borrowed my boots.  My feet are a little smaller, so I know she got blisters that day.  When she was out on her walk, it began to rain.  The local militia was quartered, a Colonel Ramsey, and she thought she met one of his officers.  She tripped and he got off his horse to help her.  She offered to show him shelter, he insisted on carrying her on his horse—”  She paused and handed Fitzwilliam a dish of tea.

His verdant eyes met hers. 

“You cannot possibly know this unless you were the young woman or, indeed, it was your sister.”

“Why did you never tell Mary your name?” she inquired.

“I am an officer with no prospects.  I had every intention of calling on her—” He paused.  Looking down into his dish of tea, he admitted, “I was transferred the next morning.”  He took a sip of his tea, considered it, and placed the cup in the dish.  “Where is Mary now?”

“In Hertfordshire.  You did not see her at the wedding?”

“I was too taken up with how you seemed so much like the lady in the rain.  You did not seem to recall me.  I almost thought you had mistaken Darcy for me.”

“No,” she told him carefully.  “No, I had never seen either of you before I met Darcy at Netherfield Park.  Mary did say something upon seeing Darcy at the Ball, but Darcy was not an officer, so I thought nothing of it.”

“Then I must go to Hertfordshire when my commanding officer allows,” Fitzwilliam told them decidedly.  “Lady Luck has given me a second chance.”

“We must bring Mary here,” Darcy told him firmly.  “She is to be married in three week’s time, if you remember.”

Fitzwilliam looked at him with wide verdant eyes.  They looked so similar in that moment, that Bella was quite startled.  “She is the sister that is to be married to Lady Catherine’s cleric.”

“You see the problem,” Darcy affirmed.

Bella paused a moment.  “I received a letter from Mary in the post this morning.  She wanted to speak to me in private before I left the wedding breakfast, but it was impossible.”

Fitzwilliam looked at her sharply.  “What does it say?”

Bella opened her mouth and shut it.  She paused, considered, and then admitted.  “She asked me if I knew who you were.  She saw you among the groom’s guests.  Mary says she needs to know before she marries Mr. Collins as she wants no questions before she takes her marriage vows.”

Fitzwilliam closed his eyes, as if saying a prayer.  “She has not forgotten me then.”

“You must understand the situation,” Bella told him carefully.  “My father’s estate is entailed away to Mr. Collins.  My mother and any unwed daughters have nowhere to go unless one of them marries our cousin.  By marrying Mr. Collins, Mary ensures our mother’s future.  Darcy wishes to break all ties with my family.  He will be no help.  By breaking this engagement, if indeed you do break it, you put the fate of my mother and my two eldest sisters in jeopardy.”

Nodding, Fitzwilliam looked at Darcy.  “We will do something for your mother and sisters.  We can break ties while providing a small cottage somewhere in Hertfordshire, I am sure.  Darcy?”

“I do not like it,” Darcy admitted.  “However, I quite take your point.”

Fitzwilliam nodded.  “I beg you to send for Mary.”

Bella took another sip of her tea.  “The letter is already written.  I shall send it in the post and she will be here in a matter of days.”

“We shall have to send Mr. Collins to another parish.”  Fitzwilliam was now in his military frame of mind and making plans.

“That goes without saying,” Darcy agreed, “but it cannot be helped.  He shall be given a suitable parish away from Kent and Derbyshire and Lady Catherine will find a new cleric.  Mary and Isabella will be raised above their families and we shall have nothing more to do with them other than to hopefully purchase Longbourn outright from Mr. Collins so they can stay in their home.”

“You are not telling me something,” Fitzwilliam said carefully.

“Wickham set his sights on Miss Elizabeth Bennet.  He seduced her.”

“It was most dreadful,” Bella agreed.  “I cannot see how any sister of mine would behave in such an uncivilized manner.”

“Wickham is very persuasive,” Fitzwilliam soothed her, now back in excellent spirits.  “He tried to convince Georgiana to elope with him only last year.”

Bella looked at him, completely shocked.  “She is only sixteen!”

“Yes,” Darcy agreed.  “You see why I had Benedict watch over her so protectively when we were in Hertfordshire.  I wanted Wickham nowhere near her.  He had influence over her once, I would not allow it again.”

“No,” Bella agreed.  “Is Georgiana prone to such romantic follies?”

“Only where Wickham is concerned, it would appear,” Fitzwilliam told her.  “I thank you for the tea, Mrs. Darcy.  I shall await your signal.”

“This is not a military campaign,” she laughed.

“Life, Mrs. Darcy, is a military campaign,” he countered.  “Romance more so.”

She stood corrected.

They all adjourned to the music room once Signor Bellini had left for the day and Colonel Fitzwilliam was kind enough to stay for lunch. 

Bella hoped her actions were correct.  Mary, she had thought, she still believed, was in love the officer in the rain. Mr. Collins was a mere convenience.  She had spoken of the officer even on the day she had become engaged.  Perhaps he was her Sir Lancelot, she thought with a sigh.  She had always secretly believed Mary to be a romantic despite her love of Fordyce’s sermons and her eschewing of all poetry.  On rainy days, she would stare out the window into the distance, and Bella knew she was thinking about that afternoon three years afore. 

Colonel Fitzwilliam was also as handsome as Darcy, looking his near copy.

If Bella had found Darcy as handsome as she did after seeing him only once and had been well falling in love with him after seeing him only twice, could not Mary have felt the same erstwhile emotions after meeting Fitzwilliam that once in the rain?

For certain it was possible.  Mary and Bella were sisters, after all.  It was entirely possible they could have fallen in love with two cousins, albeit separately and three years apart.  Perhaps Mary was not meant for a cleric’s wife despite all her love for Fordyce’s sermons and the church.  Perhaps she was, in fact, meant for an officer’s wife, whatever that entailed.  Bella did not know.  She was certain Mary would not know either. 

Only Mary’s heart could tell her the truth, and Bella, as her beloved sister, would give her that opportunity.