Rose and Lavender Water 15

Rose and Lavender Water

Part the Fifteenth

Darcy, Bella, and Georgiana went down to Hertfordshire for a wedding all of them knew was not taking place.

At the breakfast table the morning of the elopement, Georgiana had taken a sip of her coffee and asked, “Why is Cousin Richard permitted to elope and I am not?”  This had opened an entire conversation that Bella had not been prepared to have. 

“Wickham is not a gentleman,” Darcy reminded her, and Bella was unfortunately beginning to get the picture.

“Perhaps I may be of assistance?” she inquired.

She took Georgiana to the music room and sat her down.  “Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mary have the full support of this house.  The elopement is necessary because Mary is meant to marry another man in a matter of days.”

“Is not a lady’s word—?”

“Usually,” Bella agreed.  “However, the Colonel and Mary met three years ago in a rainstorm.  Mary has been in love with him these three years hence.  I would not let her marry with unequal affection.”

Georgiana thought about this for a long moment and then nodded.  “Perhaps it is as you say.”

“You will find, when all is said and done, that it surely is,” Bella promised, squeezing her hand.

Thus, the Darcy trunks had been packed (Mary’s left under her bed for when she would next need it) and the three of them went to Hertfordshire.

“Bingley is not joining us?” Bella asked as they entered the drawing room and she ordered tea.

“No,” Darcy answered darkly.  “He is coming.  I expect he and the Hursts will be here within the hour.”

Georgiana sat down at the pianoforte and began to play a Scotch Air. 

The roll of a carriage, Bella believed, signaled the arrival of the Bingley party. 

However, when Mr. Bennet of Longbourn was announced, Bella knew she should have expected him.  “I have come to fetch Mary.”

“Fetch Mary?” she asked, all affectation.  “Why, she is at Longbourn, preparing for her wedding.  I was thinking of coming over in an hour or two.”

She looked over at Darcy for confirmation and he nodded his head.

“What do you mean ‘Mary is at Longbourn’?  I have not seen her these three weeks since.  She has been in Town, visiting you.”

“No,” Bella told him carefully.  “She left just this Monday to return to Hertfordshire, quite early in the morning.  She did not even bother to wait until breakfast, she was so anxious for her wedding preparations.  I have the note somewhere.”  She made a show of opening her books before she called to a servant to bring the books next to her bed.

They waited several long minutes before a volume of Marlowe was produced and she took the letter from its pages.

“Here it is,” she declared, and she handed it over to her father, who grabbed it and quickly read its contents.

“Well,” he told the room at large, “she never arrived.”

Silence descended over them.  Bella was aware of Georgiana fidgeting. 

“If she did not go to Longbourn,” Darcy asked rationally, “where would she go?”  He took the letter from Bella’s father and looked it over himself.  “She certainly seems like a young lady in agitation over wedding plans.”

Bella paused and looked out over the fields of Netherfields toward the impending rain clouds.  “The officer in the rain, of course.”

Darcy looked up, completely startled.  Perhaps he had not imagined her to be so blunt.

“Mary has been in love with an officer since she was fifteen years of age.”

“Officer?  What officer?  It is only Jane and Elizabeth who has ever been taken up with officers.  This note clearly states—”

“An agitation for future romantic plans,” Bella told them.  “Darcy, can you check the post?”

She knew Mary would have written her.  Mary would not be married until today at the earliest, but she would have written from the post road to say that she was well. 

Darcy went out to the post and collected it.  He kept three for himself and handed one to Bella.  It was Mary’s hand.  She looked at the seal, saw she did not recognize it, and opened it.

“She is on the post road,” she told the awaiting room.  “She expects to be in Gretna Green on Thursday, that is, today, and a married woman on Friday as initially planned.”  She picked up the letter and held it to her nose.  It was scented with lavender water.  Odd.  Did Mary have two bottles or had she scented paper before she had left for Gretna Green? 

Papa seemed agitated.  “Give me that.”  He took the letter out of Bella’s hand, although she was holding it firmly in her hands, and quickly read it.  “It does not say with whom she has eloped!  We do not even know if it is a gentleman of good character!”

Georgiana sighed from her place behind the pianoforte and hunched her shoulders into a very unladylike position.

“You are excused, Georgiana,” Bella told her kindly, not wanting the younger girl to have to sit any longer through this family drama.

Immediately perking up, Georgiana stood.  “Thank you, Isabella.”

“Darcy and I will have this all sorted out,” she promised.

Her papa barely noticed Georgiana’s absence.

“So your sister has eloped to Scotland with an unknown officer and all under your roof,” he accused, staring at Bella accusingly.

Darcy immediately stepped in between them.  “I will remind you that you are speaking to Mrs. Darcy of Pemberley, sir.”  Darcy stood a good half foot above his father in law and certainly made a fearsome prospect standing over and protecting Bella.

“She is my daughter,” Papa reminded him.

“She is no longer your daughter, sir,” Darcy countered.  “She is first and foremost my wife.”

They stood and glared at each other for another tense moment until Bella’s father capitulated and sat down in a chair, clearly weary.  “The note does not say if she intends to return.”

“If she is married to an officer,” Darcy told him, “she must return to where he is quartered.  As this happened in London, the officer is most likely quartered in London.  Mary has shown a willingness to keep in contact with Mrs. Darcy, she may contact Mrs. Darcy again, most likely at Darcy House.”

“I must go to London, then,” Papa determined, for the first time seeming like an old man.

“That is not necessary,” Bella told her papa.  “I shall handle it.”

“What will I tell your mother?”

Bella shrugged.  “That the wedding is off.  You need give no other explanation.  She will have a fit and be taken to her room, but that outcome was always assured no matter what Mary did.”

“We shall have to tell Bingley,” Darcy murmured.

Bella looked up at him with violet eyes.  Caroline and Louisa would certainly not appreciate a wasted trip.

“Off?” Bingley declared when the full Netherfield Party was present.  Mr. Bennet had returned to Longbourn with the news, and now Bella and Darcy had to impart it to their hosts.  “What do you mean ‘off’?”

“The bride changed her mind,” Darcy told him.  “It was quite a surprise to us as well.”

Georgiana, who was once again in the room, shared a look with Bella.  It seemed she did not care for subterfuge.

“I remember them at the Netherfield Ball,” Caroline was now exclaiming.  “Mr. Collins was so attentive to Mary Bennet.  She was all smiles.  I had thought the lady in love.  It is all quite extraordinary.  Where is Miss Mary now?”

Bella took a deep breath.  “I do not believe she is at Longbourn.”

“Poor lamb,” Louisa sighed.  “I was a wreck before my wedding.  It is quite natural to have doubts.  Mark my words, the wedding will take place, as planned, tomorrow.  The bride just needs to buck herself up.”

However, the bride was not in Hertfordshire.  She was in Scotland with Colonel Fitzwilliam, getting married to him instead of to the highly respectable Mr. Collins of Hunsford.

The Bingleys, it seemed, fully expected to go to the church and dressed in their finery, but when no messenger appeared to tell them to come to the wedding, the party ended up playing cards.  In the afternoon they broke up and changed into traveling clothes and they all headed back up to London.

An express arrived Saturday after lunch from Colonel Fitzwilliam.  They were married and returning to London.

Darcy folded it up in satisfaction.  “A job well done,” he said.  “Now, how are we going to tell Mr. Bennet?”

“Is that not Colonel Fitzwilliam’s problem?” Bella suggested as she took a sip of wine.  “He should have known he would have to face Papa sooner or later.”

“It was all I could do to keep Mr. Bennet from coming to London to trace Mary’s movements,” Darcy said in resignation.  “He was determined to find her.”

“At least she was thoughtful enough to write me that note.”

“It was thoughtful of you to think of it.”

“She is my sister.  I can guess her thoughts.”

“Hmm,” he agreed, looking over at her.  “Fitzwilliam has proved a mystery to me over these past few weeks.  I never knew he harbored a secret love for a lady in the rain.  It is quite extraordinary.”

“You,” Bella paused, licking her lips.  “It is quite natural that you and Colonel Fitzwilliam should resemble each other.  You are cousins.”

Darcy shifted in his seat, but allowed her to continue.

“However, Wickham—”

“My father was prolific in his attention to women who were not his wife, no matter their social standing in society,” he explained carefully.  “When I was a child, I thought it was the way with all families.  Benedict soon disabused me of the notion when we were at Harrow.”

“Oh,” Bella murmured.  “How unfortunate to share even a tenuous connection to George Wickham.”

“It makes a certain amount of sense,” he mused, “the sons of three men, attracted to three sisters, Isabella, Mary, and Elizabeth.  Only Jane is left out of this pretty picture.”

“I have had a note from Mama,” Bella confessed.  “She is sending Elizabeth to Cheapside for Christmastide.  She did not say why, only that she needed to get out of the house before she vexed Papa anymore than she already has.”

“Let us hope that is all it is,” Darcy replied darkly, his thoughts turning inward.  “This is about the time she would learn if she were with child.”

“I have not even learnt if I am with child,” Bella gasped in astonishment.  “We were married less than a week after the Netherfield Ball.  How could she possibly know?”

Darcy leaned forward in interest.  “Your monthly moon cycle has not come upon you, Mrs. Darcy,” he noticed.  “Has that not at least aroused your suspicions?”

“You must miss two moon cycles to be certain,” she told him archly, “and it helps if I have a sudden aversion to certain smells, which has not yet occurred.”

“Well,” Darcy sighed, leaning toward her.  “We shall just hope that the smell of mutton becomes utterly repulsive to you.”

She smiled at him.  “You know I do not care for mutton.”

“All the more reason for you to find it repulsive.”  He kissed her even though the door was not completely shut and a servant could have walked in at any time.

Mary and Colonel Fitzwilliam returned from Scotland the following Wednesday, married and happy and well battered from the road.

“Oh, Mary!” Bella cried.  “Let us get you into a bath and a fresh dress.  Will you be going to the barracks after this?”

Darcy and Fitzwilliam shook hands.

Bella ignored the men completely.

As soon as Bella got Mary alone, happily ensconced in the bath water, she asked, “Well?  Is marriage everything you hoped it would be?”

“I am glad you were so plain in your language to me before the wedding,” Mary told her.  “I would not have known what to have expected otherwise.”

“And?” Bella pushed.

Mary blushed from her cheeks down her neck and into her chest.

Bella smiled.  “As good as all that then.”

“Do not tease me, Bells.”

“I do not mean to tease.”

“You do mean to tease,” Mary assured her as a servant poured water over her hair, making it a dirty ash blonde.  She looked like a drowned mermaid.  “You have been married a full month longer than I have.”

“Yes,” Bella agreed, “but we are married to cousins.  How wonderful is that?”

“Perfectly perfect,” Mary agreed, pushing her hair out of her eyes.  “Richard is perfectly perfect.”  She reached out her left hand to show off the thin gold band there.  “See?  I am Mrs. Richard Fitzwilliam now.  It is all I have ever wanted.”

“I am so pleased for you,” Bella assured her, giving back her hand.  “I hope you know I only had your best interests in heart when I supported the match between you and Mr. Collins.  I thought the officer in the rain was quite gone—”

“No, Bella, I understand.  I also asked you to catch Mr. Collins for me.”

“Still, I should not have,” Bella argued passionately.  “We still should have had hope that your officer would return to you—and he did.”

“Richard would not have returned if not for your own wedding to Darcy.”

Bella blushed lightly.  “That is so.  It is a happy coincidence.”

“A very happy coincidence.”

When the ladies came downstairs, Mary in a fresh muslin, her hair brushed out and placed in a chignon elegantly on her head.

Colonel Fitzwilliam was just finishing an express to Mr. Bennet and signing it with his family crest.

“Oh,” Bella remarked.  “That must be the crest you used to sign your letter to me, Mary.  I had not seen the like of it.”

“You shall certainly see the like of it now,” Fitzwilliam told her good naturedly as he handed it to a footman with specific instructions.  “Mary assures me the two of you will be regular correspondents.”

“Is it always in the blue wax?”

“Always,” he assured her with a smile.

Papa, upon receiving the express, came straight to London and stormed into Darcy’s office.  Bella was in the music room with Georgiana but was soon sent for.

“You had something to do with this,” he demanded, flinging the Colonel’s note at him.  “An impoverished second son of an Earl with no income.  Does he think we should be thankful for the elevation?  Now Mary has no prospects and shall be moving between barracks for the rest of her life when she could have been living in a comfortable parsonage until the end of her days!”

“Papa!” Bella tried to explain, “It is not as bad as that.”

“It is not as bad as that?” he demanded.  “Where does this letter say that Colonel Fitzwilliam has an income?  Where does it say that she will be comfortable?  Where does it say that his sons will inherit property?  Where does it say he owns a carriage?”

Bella looked over at Darcy who was standing by the desk, his arms crossed in agitation.

“If you take the measure of the man—” he tried to explain to Mr. Bennet.

“I have taken the measure of the man and I have found him wanting!  He is the second son.  I warned you girls against men without fortune, and you have no fortune of your own to be caught!  It appears both Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mary have been foolish!”

Bella was absolutely stunned by her father’s negative reaction.  She had not expected him to be pleased with an elopement, but Colonel Fitzwilliam was an officer and a gentleman, and he had excellent connections.  He was her husband’s own cousin, for example.  She assumed he had a small, though still existing stipend from the Earl of Matlock.  He was a regular guest at Darcy House and since his marriage he had been staying there with Mary in the Oriental Room.

Hearing footsteps come down the hall, she realized that Colonel Fitzwilliam had been summoned and in another few moments, he was upon them.

“Mr. Bennet, I presume.”  All good humor was removed from his face.

“What do you mean by this, man, running off with my daughter when she had an excellent marriage arranged, at her own request, to a respectable clergyman?” Papa demanded.  “I should call you out.”

“I do not recommend you do that,” Darcy interrupted.  “My cousin is an officer and an excellent shot and both Mary and Isabella should be unhappy to lose their father.”

“I do not care what Mary and Isabella should think!” Mr. Bennet exclaimed.  “It is the silliness of women that has gotten us into this predicament.”

“Mary is anything but silly,” Colonel Fitzwilliam assured them.  “She is sweetness itself.  When I first met her—”

“When was that?  At Isabella and Darcy’s wedding not a month hence?”

“No,” Fitzwilliam answered, “three years ago on a rainy afternoon in Hertfordshire.”

Mr. Bennet’s face turned purple.  “You have been meeting with my daughter in secret for three years, young man?”  He reached into his coat and pulled out a glove, slapping it down on the floor in front of Colonel Fitzwilliam.  “Name your second.”

“Sir, please,” Fitzwilliam tried to soothe.

“Name your second.”

Fitzwilliam looked over Mr. Bennet’s shoulder at Darcy who nodded.

Papa followed his gaze.  “Very well.  We will meet at Hyde’s Park at dawn.  I trust you can provide the guns.”

“I know a physician.  Good man,” Fitzwilliam put in.

“Good.”  Papa nodded.  He looked over at Bella with sad blue eyes, but left the study without another word.

“We cannot tell Mary,” Bella said instantly into the quiet.

“No,” Fitzwilliam agreed.  “We cannot tell her although her father might be dead tomorrow morning.”

“Dueling is illegal in England,” Darcy reminded him. 

“I have yet to get caught,” Fitzwilliam reminded him ruefully, a bit of good humor back in his tone.  “Nothing will happen.  I may kill my wife’s father but that can be covered up easily enough.”

Easily enough? Bella thought.  How could they cover up a dead body?

Colonel Fitzwilliam went to the barracks after breakfast.  Mary, Bella could tell, was aware there was a situation.  She, however, did not ask.  That is, not until she led Bella to the Morning Room and closed the door behind them.

“We should not leave Georgiana alone with only Mrs. Ainsley to amuse her,” Bella tried to demure, looking at her sister’s fair features.

“Georgiana will play the pianoforte,” Mary told her quietly, speaking only the truth.  “The two of you sound so elegant in a duet together.  I feel almost as if I am unneeded.”

Bella immediately took her hand.  “That is not true, Mary,” she confessed.  “You are my dearest sister.  Georgiana could never replace you in my affections—and now you are Mrs. Richard Fitzwilliam.  Your place is assured.”

Mary nodded and looked Bella directly in the eyes.  “I heard shouting this morning.”

Sighing, Bella admitted.  “It was Papa.  He is here in London.”

“He is unhappy we eloped.”

“Yes,” Bella told her, although she did not elaborate.  “The wedding with Mr. Collins was an embarrassment.  We could expect no better.”

“I shall write to Mama,” Mary determined.

Bella hesitated.  “Surely Fitzwilliam has told you we can have no contact with Longbourn.”

Mary took back her hand and went to sit over on a sofa.  “I must clear this up.  I can break ties with home later.”

Not wanting to be the one to break her sister’s heart, Bella followed her and sat down next to her, retaking her hand.  “Ask him, but I am certain he will tell you not to write to Mama.”

Mary considered for a long moment.  “I never wrote to Matthew—to Mr. Collins.  I should have explained.”

Bella sighed.  “Your absence was explanation enough.  You are a woman married to another man.  You cannot write to your former fiancé.  It is not done.  The rules of propriety will not allow you.”

Mary deflated.  “This is all a muddle!”

“We knew it would be a muddle,” Bella soothed.  “When we sent for you, we knew this could happen.  We knew your engagement to Mr. Collins could be broken, we knew Mama and Papa could be angry, we knew there could be embarrassment—”

“Did you know there would be an elopement to Scotland?” Mary asked wryly.

“No,” Bella admitted.  “I did not foresee that.”  She paused.  “Has Lord Matlock written?”

“He is not best pleased with Richard’s choice, though he is convinced I am a woman of some standing as I am your sister.”  She sighed.  “He wishes I had more of a fortune.  Apparently, Darcy gave me your fortune, so I have two thousand five hundred pounds to my name.  Not a fortune like Miss Bingley, but more respectable than a mere one thousand pounds.”

The sisters’ thoughts turned inward and Bella thought to herself.  It had all got muddled.  Perhaps it would have been better if Mary and Colonel Fitzwilliam had traveled with them to Hertfordshire and explained to the Bennet family that they now wished to be married.  It would have still created a scandal, but Papa would perhaps not have called the Colonel out.

The Colonel did not arrive back at Darcy House until well after dinner and he immediately withdrew Mary from the drawing room, undoubtedly to be alone together.  Bella was performing with Georgiana, and she watched them go, her violet eyes following their every movement.

“It is still early,” Darcy commented when the song was finished.  “However, perhaps we better take Fitzwilliam’s lead and go to bed.”  He looked at Bella for approval.

She turned to Georgiana.  “If you do not mind?”

“No,” Georgiana answered with false cheerfulness.  She had undoubtedly felt the somber mood that had pervaded the evening.  “I can read in my room.”

“Then it is settled,” Darcy determined, taking a candle and opening the door for the ladies. 

He escorted Georgiana first to her room, wishing her a good night before going to his shared bedchamber with Bella and following her in.

They did not speak.  Darcy laid the candle down on Bella’s vanity and allowed for her maid, Helène, to come and take down her hair and undress her.  He withdrew to behind his privacy screen so his valet could help him undress. 

When Bella was finished, she had Helène brush out her hair before slipping into bed and taking out a book of poetry.

“None of that tonight,” Darcy told her.  “I will be gone before you wake.”

“You will not let me accompany you,” Bella determined as she marked her place.

“A duel is no place for a woman.  You should not even know that it is taking place.”

“No, I suppose I should not,” she agreed, sighing.  Bella turned to him with her violet eyes.  She reached for him and he fell into her willing embrace.  He kissed her, slow and soft, an apology and she lost herself into the embrace.

She must have fallen asleep because sometime in the night, she was aware of Darcy leaving with a candle.  Hearing movements from the other room, she lifted her head to see movement and wondered if Darcy was dressing for the day despite the earliness of the hour.

Darcy came back into the bedchamber and kissed her briefly.  “All will be well,” he promised.

“You must tell me if my papa falls dead in Hyde Park.” 

“We will do all in our power to ensure that does not happen,” he assured her, brushing her hair away from her face lovingly.  Darcy kissed her one more time before he left the room, carrying the one candle.  The room was once again hushed in darkness. 

Bella stayed awake, listening to the sound of the clock chiming the hour.

The sun slowly rose over the horizon and, at some point, light shone through the curtains.

Helène came into the room and brought in water for Bella to wash her face.  It was time to get up.  Darcy was not home yet. 

She dressed for the morning in a pale rose silk, allowing Helène to do her hair the way it was always done, pulled at the base of the skull with a lace marriage cap in place.  Bella stared at her reflection in the mirror for several long minutes before placing her scent behind her wrists and again behind her ears.

She had noticed that Georgiana wore a perfume that smelled faintly of honeysuckle and violets.  It was quite whimsical and pretty, the scent of a girl and not a woman.  Bella would have to ask her where she had purchased it.  Perhaps she could get a rose perfume that was slightly more sophisticated than her simple rose water.  Darcy, after all, loved the smell of roses on her.

When she went down to breakfast, she met both Mary and Georgiana.  Mary looked at her and asked, “Where is Darcy?”

“He had business.”

“Richard had business,” she replied, confusion in her tone.

Georgiana looked up at this.  “Is that so?  How peculiar.  Christmas is but the day after tomorrow.”

There was already a large fir tree in the drawing room and Bella had gone shopping with both Mary and Georgiana, with Georgiana’s guidance, to purchase small gifts for her new relations as well as Louisa and Caroline.

The ladies took their breakfast, Bella putting on false cheer.  She breathed in through her nose as she drank her morning coffee, looking out the dining room window, looking for the Darcy carriage.

The gentlemen came in two hours later, noisily, Darcy and a doctor carrying Fitzwilliam between them.

“What has happened?” Mary demanded as she followed them up the stairs to the Oriental Room, Bella not far behind them.  “Why is he bleeding?”

Fitzwilliam moaned.  “It is but a flesh wound, my love.”

“A shot to the shoulder,” Darcy told them as a footman came to help.  “Mr. Bennet aimed to kill.”

Bella stopped in shock.  “Papa meant to leave his daughter a widow?”

Mary was holding Fitzwilliam’s hand, but her head whipped around to look at Bella, eyes wide.  “There was a duel?”

“Not now,” Fitzwilliam begged, and they disappeared around a corner.

Georgiana was left at the base of the stairs, her verdant eyes wide with fear.  Bella immediately tripped down the stairs and took her into the music room where she ordered a strong pot of tea.

Darcy did not appear for well over half an hour, Mary staying with Fitzwilliam who had been stabilized and given opium. 

“He will live,” he declared.  “I cannot say the same for Mr. Bennet.”

“What happened?” Bella asked, pouring a dish of tea for her husband.

“Mr. Bennet shot to kill.  Fitzwilliam shot wide but was wounded in the shoulder.  Fitzwilliam called to reload and Fitzwilliam killed Mr. Bennet with the second shot.  We had to leave Mr. Bennet’s body in the darker streets of Bloomsbury and make it look like a robbery.  We hid Fitzwilliam at White’s until it was safe enough to bring him here.”  He grimaced. 

Georgiana looked pale.  “A duel—” she breathed.  “Could this have happened at Ramsgate?” she asked, her verdant eyes looking up at her brother.

“Only if Wickham had gone through with his threat and eloped with you,” Darcy told her carefully.  “I would not have shot wide out of courtesy.”

Georgiana paled.

Bella reached for her sister in law and took her hand.  “It did not come to that,” she soothed, “and Colonel Fitzwilliam will be well.  You heard your brother.  It was only the shoulder.”

“We will have to say it was a hunting accident,” Darcy was now saying, putting down his dish of tea.  “We were seen, but I do not think anyone at White’s will talk.  It is a matter of honor.”

“To think,” Bella wondered aloud, “Mary has had a duel fought over her.”

“Indeed,” Darcy agreed darkly.  “Indeed.”

The End