Excentryke's Musings

Daisy Chains

Part the Ninth

Being engagement did not suddenly change Bella’s life.  Once Darcy returned from Town, he still came over to the townhouse with a horse and rode with her.  Renee still entertained Philip Dwyer and his friends, and there were no preparations to be had.  The wedding breakfast would be at Netherfield Hall.

As she suspected, two gowns came from Madame Delacroix.  The first was made of silks and pure white, with a covering of lace, no blusher to be seen.  This was undoubtedly for the ball.  The second with a buttermilk yellow, also silk, with a slightly lower than usual waist, a blusher, and a bow.  It also came with a pelisse and gloves. 

For Renee’s wedding, Bella had to wear an old gown, though it was far from shabby. She chose a blue silk gown that went well with her eyes. 

Darcy escorted her.  It took place in the Meryton chapel with a full guard of honor.

What was peculiar was that Mr. Wickham was not present.

When Bella asked Phil, he said that Wickham was on duty.  Bella found that most odd.  He did not even show up for the Wedding Breakfast at the Meryton Arms, where the soldiers got drunk at eleven in the morning.

It had been arranged that Bella would stay at Lucas Lodge from the time of Renee’s wedding until the Netherfield Ball, which was the span of two days, to give the couple a honeymoon of sorts.  She would then move back into the townhouse for the next two nights before her wedding.

Bella said goodbye to her mother, surprised to find tears in Renee’s eyes, and loaded in the carriage with her trunk and allowed herself to be carried off to Lucas Lodge.

“It is not a fine estate,” Darcy commented.

“No,” Bella agreed, taking in the small house, “but it is certainly neat.”

“Yes,” Darcy agreed.  “Most neat.”  He helped Bella out of the carriage and his man went to take out her trunk.  “I have been thinking,” he told her carefully, “it might be good for you to be married from this house.”

Bella glanced up.

“Mrs. Dwyer has not been showing good judgment of late.  Sir William Lucas has a respectable establishment and a respectable knighthood.”

Glad that the brim of her hat hid her reaction, Bella at first did not respond, instead composing herself.  Darcy had taken to ordering her about just as he was ordering about their wedding.  He had taken care of her wedding clothes, the guests, including going so far as to change her instructions for her own Swan cousins at the Meryton Arms, and now he was managing this.

She knew she had to get used to it.  If he was heavy handed now, she could only imagine what he would be like once they were married.

“If you think that is best.  Renee, I am sure, will enjoy more of a honeymoon.”

“Exactly my point, dearest,” Darcy assured her, opening the front gate for her so she could pass through.  At least he was gallant.

Sir William was all obsequiousness and Lady Lucas was a pillar of silence.  There were two daughters, Charlotte, the eldest, who was old enough to have been Bella’s nurse, and Mariah who was only two or so years younger than Bella. Then there were the Lucas boys who were too young to be in company.

Mariah quickly grabbed Bella’s hand and showed her to the room they would be sharing.  “I hope you don’t mind,” she apologized, looking at Bella worriedly.  “I promise you I can wear warm socks so my toes aren’t cold!”

The room was undoubtedly charming. 

“I don’t mind sharing,” Bella assured her.  “We just need space to air out my dress for the Netherfield Ball and then—the wedding.  Darcy is talking to Sir William now of how I should be married from this house.”

Mariah’s eyes blew wide.  “Indeed?—Well,” she sighed.  “We shall be most careful with your gowns,” she promised.  “We shall lay them out over the chair in the corner and then over the bed once we get up.  Shall that not suit?”

Bella smiled to herself.  “Yes.  That shall suit quite well.”

Her trunk was brought up and her dresses taken out to air, hung in every corner of the room.  Mariah sighed over the silk and the lace. 

Bella walked Darcy out to the coach, but they were in full views of the Drawing Room windows so he could not kiss her goodbye, much to Bella’s relief.  She offered him her hand, which he readily took and held between his gloved fingers.

“Two days until the ball,” he promised her.

“And then two days until the wedding,” she reminded him, not quite wanting to think about it herself.

“Less than a week and you will be Mrs. Isabella Darcy of Pemberley.”

“—a place I have yet to see,” she agreed cautiously.

“You will, my love,” he promised, stroking her hand in his larger ones, “once the Christmas Season is over and the Little Season is done.”

Yes, the Little Season.  Bella, over the past few weeks, had become acquainted with the ideas of the London social seasons, the first from April until July and the second from November to January, or the Little Season.  She found it all quite baffling.  Did anyone spend time in the country?

With one last lingering look, Darcy left her at the gate.

Feeling a presence behind her, Bella turned to see the stoic figure of Charlotte Lucas, the eldest of the two Lucas daughters.

“What a fine catch,” she remarked.  “Lady Swan—forgive me, Mrs. Dwyer—must be so happy with the upcoming alliance.”

“Naturally.”

“Will his family be here in time for the Netherfield Ball?”

Bella turned so she could go back into the house.  Waiting for Charlotte to fall into step with her, Bella admitted, “Some.  Not all.”

Charlotte made a sound in the back of her throat.  “Interesting.  Most interesting.”  She then swept off down a hall, now that they had stepped into the entryway of the house.

“Don’t mind her,” Mariah told Bella not five minutes later.  “She’s past thirty and becomes melancholy when anyone marries.”

“Past thirty!”  Bella was shocked.  “Surely she has a dowry.”

“Yes, but still no one wanted to marry her.  She is so terribly plain and has no conversation.  Father also hadn’t been elevated to the knighthood so she was simply a tradesman’s daughter when she became of an age to marry.”

Bella grimaced.  That was a difficult position to find yourself in.

It turned out Eliza Bennet was a close friend of Charlotte Lucas and could not decide on the matter of a her coiffeurture without Charlotte’s input. And so she came to Lucas Lodge.

Bella and Mariah were upstairs and came downstairs onto the railings to hear into the parlor, the door of which was propped open, so as to spy on Eliza.

“Do you always do this?” Bella whispered from her place on the balustrade.

“All the time,” Mariah promised.  “Charlotte doesn’t tell me anything.”

A maid came through with the tea and paused, taking in Mariah and Bella, before going about her duties.  She left the door open even wider when she left.

“—he is quite the silliest man in Hertfordshire!” Elizabeth was now complaining from inside the parlor.  “I do not know how Jane can keep up her equanimity.  I should not tolerate such a suitor.”

“You are not Jane,” Charlotte soothed.  “Jane is perhaps thinking that Mr. Collins has a comfortable home and excellent prospects.”

“The prospects are Longbourn,” Elizabeth complained.

Bella and Mariah looked at each other.  It was clear they were talking about the Bennet cousin, the clergyman, who had come to pay court to the Bennet daughters.  It appeared that Eliza Bennet did not approve of him.

“If only we women could inherit.”

Bella had felt that sentiment herself several times since her father’s untimely death.

“The law is not kind to women,” Charlotte soothed.

“I believe he will propose the night of the Netherfield Ball,” Elizabeth was now complaining to Charlotte.  Bella leaned in closer from the banister in order to hear.  “If he does not propose then, he will propose directly afterward.  It is the perfect opportunity.”

“Do you think Mr. Bingley will propose to Kitty?”  This was Charlotte again.

Bella could hear Eliza Bennet sigh.  “I fear it may be a mere flirtation on his part.  He does not seem an entirely serious young man.  Kitty is not an entirely serious young woman.”

There was the sound of heavy footsteps in the hall—undoubtedly Sir William Lucas—and Bella and Mariah quickly quit their hiding place and ran up the stairs.

They fell into the bedroom, gasping.

“Do you often spy on Charlotte and Elizabeth Bennet?” Bella asked as she gained her breath.

“Nothing happens here,” Mariah complains.  “You should hear Eliza on the subject of your Mr. Darcy.”

At this, Bella looked up, a little curious.  “Why?  What does she say?”

Now Mariah looked a little afraid.  “It is nothing—”

“Mariah,” Bella hedged.

“Well, first she seemed so fond of Mr. Darcy, but then Lieutenant Wickham came.  No one believes his lies.”

“No one but the militia and Elizabeth Bennet,” Bella sighed.  “Let me guess.  The Living at Kympton.”

“Indeed.”

Bella sank onto the bed, careful not to disturb her ballgown that was lain out on it.  “She is jealous—” she remarked to no one in particular.

Mariah came and sat beside her.  “How wonderful to be the object of other women’s envy!”

Bella tried to smile, but it only fell flat.  The problem is, she didn’t want it.  She didn’t want the wedding, she didn’t want the marriage, she didn’t want the place in society, she didn’t want Darcy herself, she doubted she even wanted Pemberley.  All she wanted was to see Carlisle again and for him to smile at her.

Was that too much to ask?

She doubted she would see him at the ball, let alone before the wedding.

What good would it do her anyway?  It would only serve to confuse the matter.

Mariah squeezed her hand and got up, swinging on the bedpost.   “Shall we go down and join them?  See what Eliza will say in our presence?”

Bella was now feeling melancholy.  “You go,” she suggested, “and report back to me.”

“Oh,” Mariah complained, “it will be so much more fun with you there.”

Bella gave her a weak smile.

“Come, come,” Mariah wheedled.  “I absolutely insist.”  She grasped Bella’s hand and gave a little tug.  At first Bella didn’t move, but at the second tug, she allowed herself to be pulled to her feet and dragged down the stairs.

By the time they got to the last step, Bella was tripping over her feet and they skated into the parlor.

When they entered the room, Charlotte did not look at all surprised.  Elizabeth, however, looked like a deer caught in lamplight.

“Shall we send for more tea?” Charlotte suggested, ringing the bell.  “Miss Swan is staying with us until her wedding as Lady Swan is lately married herself.”  She clearly said this for Elizabeth Bennet’s benefit.

“Oh?  Whom did she marry?”  She now took a sip of her tea.

“Lieutenant Philip Dwyer,” Bella answered, taking a seat.

The maid came in and took out the tea service.

“I believe I have met him,” Eliza met him.  “You meet so many officers.”

If she meant this to be an insult, it glided off of Bella like water.  Bella honestly didn’t care if the Bennets knew Phil Dwyer.  He mattered only that he would be her stepfather for four days before her marriage.  That was all.  She would be gone to London in less than a week.

“You were not at the wedding then,” Bella suggested.  “True.  It was such a select guest list.  I do not remember seeing you there.”

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow.  She was clearly pleased at how the conversation was going.  Bella supposed she liked fighting with other young women.

Somehow, after half an hour, the subject turned to dowries. 

“How much is yours?” Elizabeth asked Bella, looking at her expectantly.

“You’ll have to ask Mr. Darcy,” she demurred.

“I cannot ask a man!” she argued.

“Then I guess you’ll never know.”

“Come, come, we are all among friends,” she protested.

“If we are all among friends, why do I know none of your dowries?” Bella inquired, looking about the room.  She let her gaze linger especially at Elizabeth Bennet.  “I am quite ignorant.”

“But our dowries,” Charlotte Lucas now told her, “are common knowledge.  Yours is not.”

It was time for Bella’s eyebrows to raise.  “I see.  You expect me to listen in at keyholes to find out.”  She set aside her teacup.  “Well, ladies.  I’m afraid I must refresh myself for dinner.”

Elizabeth Bennet was smirking to herself.  It was clear she was enjoying herself.

When she was back in her room she shared with Mariah, Bella was admiring her wedding dress.  At least she would look pretty on her wedding day.

There was a knock on her door and Mariah entered.

“Eliza Bennet has fifty pounds a year at the pleasure of her father,” Mariah told her outright, “and a one fifth share of her mother’s dowry when Mrs. Bennet dies.”

“And how much was that?” Bella inquired.

“Five thousand pounds.”

Bella was stunned nearly silent.  “She acts so superior.”

“Her dowry is not superior,” Mariah told her as she swung over, holding on to a bedpost.  “We Lucas sisters are much more well provided for.”

“I should hope so.”  Bella looked over at her new friend.  “Is she gone?”

“No.  They are still in the parlor.”

Bella was finding Eliza Bennet to be a plague.  No wonder no man would have her.  “How old is Elizabeth?” she inquired.

“Eliza?” Mariah asked, a glint in her eye.  “Well, older than you and I.”

“That tells me nothing, Mariah!” Bella assured her.  “I am but seventeen years of age, the age of Kitty and Kitty is the fourth of the Bennet sisters.”

“Mary is eighteen.”

“That still tells me nothing.”

“Well,” Mariah told her.  “Jane is close to being on the shelf.”  She came and sat next to Bella on the edge of the bed.  Her wedding dress was lying across the pillows. 

“Is it as bad as that?  That says nothing about Eliza though.”

“She should hurry.  She only has a few years left.  She is not one and twenty—”  Mariah bit her lip and looked away, having been indiscrete. 

“She still has time,” Bella commented.

“Indeed.  Though she should be married in the next year or so.”

“And whom would she marry?” Bella wondered.  “Oliver Hatfield is not serious about marriage.”

“No, he is not,” Mariah agreed, giggling, “though he is an excellent dance partner.”  She toed the carpet.  “I do so hope to change his mind.”

Bella reached over and squeezed her arm.  “We shall have to be most vigilant at the Netherfield Ball.”

Mariah looked over with wide brown eyes.  “Will you help me, Isabella?”

Carefully, Bella knew she could promise nothing.  “I will be much occupied with Darcy and his relations, but if I can steer him in your direction, I certainly will.”

“Twould be such a favor,” Mariah confessed, placing her hand over Bella’s.

“Then I should do everything in my power.”

Just because Bella couldn’t be happy in marriage, didn’t mean Mariah should suffer the same fate.  A country landowner with an estate worth a thousand and a half a year was a fine prospect for a young girl whose family came from trade.  He was respectable and a gentleman.  Her eldest son would have an estate to inherit and her daughters, if they were frugal, would have small dowries.

Hearing a carriage being brought up, Bella looked out the window.  It seemed Eliza Bennet was finally leaving.  It seemed the horses could be spared for a carriage, unlike when Kitty went to Netherfield that one night.

The next day Bella had visitors. 

She was at her needlework with Mariah in the smaller parlor when Darcy was announced with two of his cousins.

Bella glanced between the two of them.

Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam was the exact copy of Darcy—tall, with broad shoulders, bright eyes, and curly brown hair.  Lady Julia, however, was slight with weak shoulders and thinning blonde hair.  The two resembled each other not at all.

She offered them both a curtsey.

“Mariah,” she asked, “could you see about the tea?”  She could have rung for it, but she needed an excuse to get Mariah out of the room.

“Of course, Isabella,” she agreed.  “I’ll have it sent in directly, and will make certain that no one disturbs.”

Bella smiled at her gratefully and offered her guests a seat.

“Most comfortable,” Fitzwilliam commented, looking around.  “I understand you are to be married from this house.”

“Yes,” Bella agreed, setting aside her needlework.  “Renee—that is, Mama—was married but yesterday herself and I am giving her privacy.  It seems there is something in the water.”

“An officer, I understand.”

Bella took him in.  Fitzwilliam was wearing a red coat and was clearly pleased at this turn of events.  “Not of your stature, of course, Colonel,” she apologized. 

“Fine form, though,” he told her, “marrying a military man.”

She laughed a little at his enthusiasm.  “I understand she will be living in the barracks.  It will be quite different from being the lady of Kenbridge Hall.”

“Quite different,” he agreed, “but you will not feel that difference.”

“No,” she agreed.  “I shall not feel that difference.  I daresay I would not like it as readily as my mother determines she will.”

“It is not for the faint of heart,” Fitzwilliam told her with a twinkle in his eye.

She looked at him.  “Are you accusing me of being faint of heart, Colonel?” she inquired.

“That is not what he is doing,” Lady Julia told her, interrupting before the Colonel could speak.  “He is flirting with you.”  She smoothed out her skirts and looked reproachfully at her brother.  “Really, Richard, I am surprised at you, and in front of Darcy!”

“I must take the metal of the woman, Julia.”

“Then do it some other way,” she chided him.  Turning back to Bella, Lady Julia offered her a small smile.  “We are all so pleased at this alliance.  I was beginning to fear Darcy was too fastidious in his choice in bride and was going to astry, that is, my eldest brother, to interfere, but I see now I did not have to.”

Darcy seemed unaffected by all of this.

Bella took a glance at him but returned her attention to Lady Julia.

“I am glad that was unnecessary.”

“Not as glad as I!” Lady Julia assured her.  “Owestry is a widower but he insists on your third dance, though he is not in the custom of dancing.  Darcy shall have your first.”

“I shall have your second,” Fitzwilliam told her.

Bella blinked.  It seemed her dance card was filling up.  She only hoped Carlisle would be present and ask her to dance.

At that moment the maid came in with the tea service.

After she left, Bella set about pouring the hot water into the pot.  “I apologize that it is not quite so elegant.”  She dumped the water out.  “I have not decided if the Lucas family is the preeminent family in the neighborhood or if it is the Bennets.  There is some disagreement.”  She splashed more hot water into the teapot and began to brew the tea.  “Sir William has a knighthood but his fortune comes from trade.  This is also just a house with no land attached.”

“Mrs. Bennet has the prettier daughters,” Darcy suggested, “at least according to Bingley.”

“Well,” Bella decided, pouring a cup for Lady Julia.  “Bingley would say that, would he not?  He will dance first with Miss Catherine, while you will dance with none of the Misses Bennet nor the Misses Lucas.”

Lady Julia looked intrigued.

“That is quite the truth,” Darcy agreed.

“While you, Colonel,” Bella decided, handing him a cup, “shall dance with Miss Mariah Lucas because I am so fond of her.  She was the young lady who was sitting with me when you came in.”

“I see I have a commission!” he joked.

“Indeed,” Bella agreed, handing a dish to Darcy.  He reached out with his thumb and brushed it against her finger, very much like he had during their first dance at the assembly.  She was quite used to it by now and barely noticed.  “Miss Mariah is all sweetness.—and you need not worry about her becoming enamoured with your red coat.  I have that on very good authority.”

“Oh ho!” Fitzwilliam noticed.  “She is immune to my charms and she has not even danced with me yet.”

Bella smiled to herself, taking up her own dish of tea.

“Not all women are Mrs. Dwyer,” Darcy reminded him coldly.  It seemed they’d had this argument before.

Lady Julia leaned in.  “Richard had determined to steal you away from Darcy.”

Bella’s eyebrows rose in surprise.  “Did he?—Well, I fear, Colonel, this is the eleventh hour.”

“The perfect time for an ambush,” he told her, saluting her with his cup.

Bella chuckled, catching Darcy’s eyes despite herself.

He was smiling devotedly at her, which caught her by surprise.

All in all the visit went well.

Bella walked the cousins out, holding onto Darcy’s arm.

“Shall I come and see you tomorrow?” Darcy whispered into her ear, disquieting her.

“No,” she decided.  “I shall be preparing for the ball.  Mariah and I shall be primping ourselves and discussing stockings.”

“Shall you?” he wondered.  “It seemed I chose correctly when I asked Sir William to take you in.  He seemed pleased to be asked such an honor.”

“Mariah is a darling,” she agreed.  “I tried to befriend Jane and Catherine Bennet—but was unable to.  Now I have a friend in Mariah.  Tis a pity we are leaving the neighborhood.”

“You shall enjoy London,” he promised her, taking his hat and placing it on his head, making him even taller.  “There are plenty of friends to be had, least of all Lady Julia and Georgiana, who arrives tomorrow.”

He left her, kissing her knuckles, and the carriage rolled away.

A carriage, however, did come the next day, but with a different coat of arms on its door.  Bella looked at it from the window, having not quite decided to get ready yet, and she quickly hurried downstairs with Mariah.

Lady Lucas and Charlotte were already in the main parlor when the Viscount of Owestry was showed in.

He looked exactly like Lady Julia—and nothing like Colonel Fitzwilliam.  Barely of a height with Bella, with weak shoulders, a slim build, watery eyes, and thinning blond hair that matched his whispering mustache, he gave his hat and cane to a servant.  He looked between the ladies and honed in on Bella immediately, coming up to her and taking her hand, kissing the back of it reverently, “Miss Swan.”

She smiled at him.  “I understand we are to be cousins.”

“Yes,” he agreed, taking a seat beside her.  “If the other ladies would excuse us?  We have much to discuss.”

Bella looked over at Lady Lucas, who was just as tall as the Lucas daughters.  She nodded and swept from the room, leaving the door ajar for the sake of propriety.

Owestry did not waste time.  “I understand Wickham is here.”

“He is,” Bella agreed.

“And you’ve seen Richard.”

Bella was getting an idea where this was going.  “I have.”

“Then you know what Darcy men are like.”

Bella had been examining her hands, embarrassed by what Owestry was insinuating, but she quickly looked up, surprised, “Are you saying…?”  She was suddenly horrified.

“Yes, I am saying,” he agreed, standing and turning from her.  “I thought you should be informed before you went through with it.”

“How many children are there?” she gasped.

“Who are Darcy’s brothers or Darcy’s children?”

Bella blinked.  “Both—”

Owestry went to the mantle and picked up a figurine, seeming to examine it.  “Darcy has a sister in Bath, a young lady of refinement.  She was recognized by her mother’s husband and has a dowry from both him and George Darcy, Darcy’s father.”  He turned to her.  “There is a young man on the estate, a few years older than Georgiana.  He is going to Cambridge next year.”

“What is his name?” Bella whispered.

“Henry George.”

“—George is his family name?” Bella inquired.

“Yes.  His mother died in childbirth.  Darcy provides for him.”

Bella thought for several long moments.  “And—And Darcy’s children?”

“There are three that I know of, Miss Swan.”

At this, Bella felt suddenly agitated and she stood.  “Why are you telling me this?” she whispered.  “If you hadn’t have told me, I would have married him, none the wiser and then if I ever found out, it would have been too late—”

“It is not too late—” Owestry assured her.

“Of course it is too late!” Bella hissed, turning to him.  “My mother wants rid of me.  She has made it abundantly clear.  It’s been too late since the moment Darcy asked me to dance at the assembly in September.”

Owestry turned to her and seemed to really take her in.  “You do not want Darcy?  You do not want Pemberly?”

She shook her head.  “No.  I want none of it.”

Owestry came over to her and carefully set her back down again on a settee.  “Miss Swan,” he whispered, but she merely looked away, tears in her eyes. 

“I am trapped more than ever—”

There was a sound at the door and they sprang apart.  The maid came in with the tea set and they sat, motionless, until she left.

“You cannot apply to Sir Lewis?” Owestry checked when the door was fortunately closed after the maid had gone.

Bella looked at him incredulously.  “He practically shafted me and my mother off of the estate after my father died in a hunting accident.”

Owestry looked devastated.

“There is nothing for it—I shall marry him.”  When Owestry made to protest, Bella put up her hand.  “I wish to know nothing of these children.”

“One lives on the estate.  You should know about him, at the least.  Darcy is funding his upbringing.  He has a nursemaid at Pemberley.”

Bella looked up, shocked.  “A son?  At Pemberley?”

“Yes, Edward Fitzgeorge.”

“At least it is not Edward Fitzwilliam,” Bella mused.  She sighed.

Neither of them made a move toward the tea.

“I had hoped that he had told you.”  Owestry’s watery blue eyes seemed so clear it was almost astonishing.

“No, he had not told me.  Why would he?”  She looked out of the window.  It had begun to rain.  The weather perfectly matched her feelings.