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The day she quit her blacks was the first day Elizabeth Bennet Fitzwilliam ever really considered the idea of a second marriage. She knew well that the Fitzwilliams did not tend towards second marriages, though they’d assured her that they wouldn’t mind if she married again. Besides, as her father in law the Earl of Matlock had said, she hadn’t had any children yet.
If you’d told the Elizabeth Bennet of 1806 that in 1816 she would be living in an Earl’s house in London, a widow of a year and a day, she would not have believed you. Then again, if you’d told the Elizabeth of 1806 she would marry the second son of an Earl and follow the drum across Europe helping to fight Napoleon, she wouldn’t have believed that either.
Elizabeth was barely out of bed when her sister-in-law, Marjorie, burst into her bedroom.
“Lizzy, we’re dining at Apsley House this evening” she declared as she sat down dramatically on a divan.
“Have we been invited, or have you just declared it?”
“I’ve just declared it but I can’t imagine Lord Wellington will mind if we let him know” Marjorie replied.
Elizabeth knew Marjorie had a point. Elizabeth knew as well as Marjorie did that they would be welcome at Apsley House tonight. With the Duke divorced, and Elizabeth being the widow of the man who essentially won him Waterloo, they’d be welcomed with open arms.
Elizabeth had been something of a favourite of the Duke since she’d first gone to the continent with Richard, and danced at her first ball with Jacaranda blossoms in her hair. After Richard’s death, she knew the Duke somewhat blamed himself, and took it upon himself to keep an eye on Elizabeth.
Marjorie was right. The Duke of Wellington did not indeed mind being the first to host the Widow Fitz upon her quitting of her blacks.
“Mrs Fitzwilliam, I must say you look wonderful” The Duke said as Elizabeth handed her cloak to the footman, who proceeded to drape the cloak over the arm of the huge nude statue of Napoleon in the entrance hall. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow and Marjorie smirked as he did so.
They followed the Duke to the dining room, Lord Stornoway following behind them like a lost puppy.
The Duke of Wellington made an impressive figure as he strode into his dining room, but his image was soon softened by the sight of his sons running up to him.
“You don’t mind if they join us?” He asked his party. He knew they wouldn’t, they could hardly say no, and both the Stornoways and Elizabeth were acquaintances of Lord Douro and Lord Charles anyway.
“Not at all, might I request Lord Douro’s company?” Elizabeth replied, smiling at the boy. The Duke raised an eyebrow.
“I had hoped for your company this evening, Mrs Fitz, but if I must surrender to my son, I must”
“Why don’t we-” Lord Douro interjected excitedly, “why don’t we share Mrs Fitzwilliam?”
The Duke smiled and nodded, “A very good compromise, Douro, well done”
Lord Douro smiled proudly as they all took their places at the table.
As the evening progressed with lively conversation, excellent food, and wonderful company, Elizabeth felt the Duke’s eyes on her more and more.
Throughout her mourning, Elizabeth had seen rather a lot of the Duke of Wellington. He’d been practically the first person she’d seen after Richard’s death. He’d sheltered with the Fitzwilliams during his divorce from the now Mrs Jackson. He’d helped a bill to get healthcare for the military get through both the Commons and the Lords, as a tribute to Richard and the other men who lost their lives fighting Napoleon. He had, to say the least, become a regular figure in Elizabeth’s life. A day felt strange if there wasn’t even a mention of Lord Wellington, and his latest endeavours.
As the evening drew on, Elizabeth found herself in a quiet corner with the Duke.
“How are you, Mrs Fitz?” He asked.
Elizabeth sighed heavily in reply.
“It is not an easy thing, losing a soulmate, though you are through the worst of it” He said quietly. His hand rested gently on the armlet around his wrist, covering his soulmark.
“Your Grace?”
“Ned Pakenham” He replied, trying to keep quiet enough that Elizabeth would hear him, but nobody else would, “Kitty’s brother, he died at the Battle of Orleans. It was never love in that sense, but he mattered to me more than anyone else”
The story the Duke told made Elizabeth want to cry.
When she was lying in bed later that night, she wondered why on earth he had trusted her with such information. She also wondered when her heart had started fluttering at the thought of the Duke of Wellington.
Over the next few weeks, and Elizabeth’s reintroduction into society, Elizabeth found herself thinking of the Duke of Wellington more often than not. She didn’t particularly spend more time with him than she had during her mourning, but he felt much more present. Maybe it was because she was, she thought, but she was certainly more aware of his presence in a room, whether it be Almack’s or the drawing room of Matlock House.
Despite a mutual disdain for Almack’s, it was where Elizabeth and Lord Wellington most frequently met. He would always try and dance with her once, even if Elizabeth thought it was only for scathing comments on others present.
It took quite a few evenings and dances before Elizabeth realised that he danced with her because he wanted to. That definitely took a little while to get used to. What took even longer to get used to was the gossip surrounding it. It was generally acknowledged that the Widow Fitzwilliam was the newest favourite of the Duke of Wellington, but most also suspected that he not only desired her for her beauty, and perhaps her body, but for her wit and conversation and manner. A few even dared to suggest that the Duke may be trying to line her up to be the next Duchess. A Fitzwilliam, even by marriage, would be a very sensible second Duchess for him, after the whole affair of his marriage to Kitty.
It was Marjorie who first brought this suggestion to Elizabeth’s attention.
“Duchess?” Elizabeth almost exclaimed, “He wants me to be the next Duchess of Wellington?”
“It is merely a suggestion,” Marjorie replied from the copper bath by the fireplace, “but you can see the logic in it”
Elizabeth nodded slowly in reply, and chewed quietly on a marron glacé as she thought.
“I suppose I understand it” She replied, eventually, “but he has never said a word of it to me”
Marjorie smiled, “it is all just suggestion and rumour at the moment, but I wanted you to know in case it was brought up in your earshot, or the Duke’s for that matter, I would expect him to know of it but perhaps you better bring it up to him?”
Elizabeth’s cheeks coloured as she thought about the prospect of telling the Duke of Wellington that there were rumours that he loved her and wished to marry her. Marjorie noticed the flaming of her sister-in-law’s cheeks and said nothing more on the subject, instead recounting stories from the day of the Stornoway children playing at being Spanish Guerillas in the Succession Houses.
Elizabeth’s thoughts did not stray from the idea of becoming the Duchess of Wellington that night. In fact, the thought occupied her mind for the next few days until she saw the man in question. She was sure she blushed the minute she saw him, for he passed comment on it.
“What a joyful complexion you find yourself with today, Mrs Fitz” said Lord Wellington, as he sat down with her beside the fire.
“Warmth from the fire, Your Grace” Elizabeth managed to stammer out in reply. She couldn’t understand why she was so nervous.
“I hear from Lady Stornoway-” Wellington started, “-that there are rumours of an engagement between ourselves afoot”
Elizabeth knew Marjorie would have said something to Wellington before she’d had a chance. In fact, she was fairly sure that Majorie had spoken to Wellington before she’d spoken to her.
Elizabeth smiled coyly, “if there is, Your Grace, nobody has informed me”.
Lord Wellington smiled a crooked half-smile at this and checked to see if anybody was listening particularly closely to them. Lord Stornoway was leaning against the fireplace as a sort of chaperone, but was in deep conversation with his wife. Wellington leant in towards Elizabeth all the same.
“You must know, Mrs Fitz, that I favour you over all” He almost whispered.
Elizabeth’s cheeks went from pink to red, and for a moment she felt like she couldn’t breathe.
“That is very kind of Your Grace” She replied quietly. She found, for once, that she didn’t know what to say.
“What I am trying to say, Mrs Fitzwilliam, is that I care for you,” Wellington continued, looking around the room, “very much”.
Elizabeth had to work hard to make sure her mouth didn’t drop open in surprise, “Your Grace…”
“At Almack’s, next time we are both there, dance the first two with me?”
Elizabeth agreed, and before she knew it, Marjorie was practically dragging her out of Matlock House and into a carriage bound for Almack’s.
The whole place was enraptured as the Duke of Wellington and the Widow Fitzwilliam danced the first two dances together, with the Duke hardly ever taking his eyes off his partner. When he offered his arm at the end of the second, she gladly accepted, and found herself led into a quiet corner, where Marjorie was waiting with Lord Stornoway. Marjorie smiled brightly as Elizabeth walked over.
“Elizabeth! What a splendid dancer you are!” Marjorie almost exclaimed as she embraced the younger woman. Elizabeth rolled her eyes and took Marjorie’s offered arm, sending a shy smile to the Duke.
“All thanks to your excellent tutelage,” Elizabeth replied, “though I did have an excellent partner”
She flashed a smile at Wellington, and she was sure she saw a blush as he muttered something about finding his niece Lady Burgersh to tell her something important.
Marjorie raised her eyebrows at Elizabeth, and Elizabeth decided not to dignify it with an answer. Instead, she watched intensely as Lord Stornoway danced with the newly presented Georgiana Darcy. What Elizabeth didn’t notice as she watched was the Duke’s eyes on her from across the room, looking at her with nothing but complete adoration.
The next morning, all the talk of society was of the Duke’s dancing twice with the Widow Fitzwilliam, and how he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.
He called on her as soon as he could. Marjorie acted as chaperone, which she interpreted as drinking tea whilst re-reading Evelina.
Elizabeth took a seat by the fire with Lord Wellington.
“I assume you’ve heard the gossip, Your Grace” Elizabeth said quietly. She knew for a fact that Marjorie wasn’t listening, but she still wanted to be careful.
“I’ve not, actually,” the Duke replied, “but I have come to something of a decision, and I wanted your opinion on it”
Elizabeth nodded and sipped her tea, encouraging him to continue.
“I’ve decided, Mrs Fitz, that I want to marry you” He said abruptly. Elizabeth nearly upset her teacup, and Marjorie glanced over briefly.
“Your Grace…”
“Let me explain my reasoning, Mrs Fitz, I think you the loveliest woman of my acquaintance, you are witty and kind and beautiful and I-”
“-Your Grace, you need not explain your thought process, I find I already know my answer” Elizabeth interrupted.
“And? Will you marry me, Elizabeth?”
“I will” Elizabeth replied. The minute the words had left Lord Wellington’s mouth, she found she hadn’t needed to think about it. Her heart told her that whilst she would always love Richard, for he was her soulmate, that she was in love with the Duke, and that she shouldn’t deny herself any happiness she may have with him.
With a quick glance to make sure Marjorie wasn’t looking, the Duke drew Elizabeth into his arms and embraced her. Her arms flew to his chest, and she couldn’t pretend that she didn’t feel a pang of desire as he did so. He pulled back slightly, and lowered his lips to hers.
“How I love you, Elizabeth” he murmured as he pulled away, picking up Elizabeth’s shawl from where it had fallen on the sofa.
“I love you too, Arthur” Elizabeth replied quietly. She fixed her shawl, before she looked over at Marjorie. She found her sister-in-law grinning widely behind her book.
The engagement of Field Marshal His Grace and Serene Highness Sir Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington, Prince of Waterloo, of Apsley House and Mrs E. B. Fitzwilliam, of Matlock House was announced in the following days.
They married six weeks later at St Paul’s Cathedral, the wedding a gift from a grateful and doting nation. They had two sons, Henry and Richard, and two daughters, Marjorie and Jane, and they remained happily married until the Duke’s death in 1852.