Chapter Text
The Earl of Matlock, Henry Spencer Fitzwilliam, was a man who liked his routine. After fifty-eight years on this earth, much of which he had given to the duties of his estates, his family, and issues of national importance in the House of Lords, he considered himself to at least have earned the privilege of his valet bringing the post at the same time every day, of a silent half hour to read his paper before breakfast, and to be warned well in advance of any situations that might arise to disturb his peace.
Unfortunately, his surviving sister was not in the same mind, and a letter from her now announced—announced! To he, the earl!—that she and Anne would be calling upon him within a few weeks at his London home. Only a few weeks to prepare to the inevitable chaos and noise. Catherine had never met a closed door which she did not think would open for her, and often the only thing that delayed her in entering was her expectation that a servant should get it. The earl would have to prepare a round of bonuses for his staff, no doubt. And his own peace and quiet? The privacy of his study? He could forget it.
There was a small upside in the fact that Catherine would be bringing Anne this time. Anne did not often venture out of Rosings, having inherited the same frailty as her father—Sir Lewis de Bourgh had been a fine man, with many qualities worthy of admiration, but his health had not been one of them. Henry was sure Sir Lewis had offered for Catherine more out of lust for her robust health than her figure or face, or her (not insubstantial) dowry.
Sir Lewis’s ill health had claimed him many years ago, God rest his soul. Anne had been a happy surprise to Catherine and Sir Lewis after eight years of marriage, but it meant she had only been five years old at the time, and could barely remember the father who left his vast estates for her to inherit one day. Anne was now nineteen, and the earl himself barely remembered her face. She very dutifully wrote letters weekly, often parroting nearly as many Catherineisms as her mother’s own letters, and the earl dutifully wrote back and sometimes sent novels and ribbons and other things that young ladies enjoyed, but he hadn’t seen her in ten years. His youngest sister had always been able to manage Catherine much better, but alas, his niece was the only Anne left to the family now.
Perhaps Catherine was finally coming round on his idea that it would be good for Anne to get more exercise. He could understand the hesitancy about London, but a leisurely journey to Pemberley and a few months in the Peaks every other year or so could only help? He had even, in a very desperate moment, offered Catherine the use of the Matlock estate for the duration, though God alone knew how he had intended to survive that with his sanity intact: would it not be lovely, he wrote through gritted teeth, for Anne to see where her mother and uncle grew up? The gardens that the aunt she was named for helped to tend? Other young women of her station from the local area? At least some sunlight?
Apparently not. Why Catherine had bent now for London he could not understand, but regardless, Anne was to visit, and this was not a gift horse the Earl of Matlock could turn away, even if Lady Catherine de Bourgh was the one who rode in on it.
Sighing, he picked up his pen and wrote to give the permission for their stay which his sister had not actually asked for but which, like a fool, he hoped that if he continued to pointedly and retroactively give, Catherine would one day notice she had not actually asked for.
The things one does for family…
When the dreaded day arrived, the earl was lucky enough to have both of his sons in residence, by which he meant, he had shouted at people in high places until Richard was given a month’s leave, and he had simply not told Frederick why he’d asked both of them to come to his study.
“What do you mean, ‘Aunt Catherine is visiting’?” asked the Viscount Starkholmes, manager of a grand estate in his own right, a grown man of thirty years of age, the nephew of the lady in question, with an expression of deepest horror. “Father, what did you do this time?”
“Why do you always think this is my fault?” the earl groused.
“I’m afraid I will not be here to receive her,” said Richard, always the more diplomatic of the two brothers. “I anticipate that I will receive new orders soon. Terribly sorry, Father. You must give her my apologies.”
“I can’t be here either,” Frederick was quick to add. “Estate business, you know. Very urgent. Aunty always understands that kind of thing. She’s so diligent herself.”
“Neither of you are going anywhere,” Henry said through gritted teeth. “Frederick, I am not getting any younger. One day, you will be the head of this family, and Catherine has every intention of outliving me. You must learn to manage her.”
“I don’t see why I should if you never have,” Frederick complained.
“And Richard,” Henry continued, ignoring his eldest son, “one would think you’d rather face Napoleon in the field than your own aunt.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Richard muttered.
This was the problem with his sons. Whenever they were in a room together, they regressed into foolish schoolboys. Even worse, schoolboys who thought they were funny. And to think, they used to be such obedient, good children! What happened to those young men?
“I am not having any of this malarkey,” the earl said firmly. “Lady Catherine is visiting and you will both be here, as will Peg, and that is final.”
“I thought our darling sister was exiled to the north?” Richard leaned forward. “Has she had a reprieve?”
“Aunt Catherine is no reprieve,” Frederick muttered, but continued, “She hasn’t repented of her bluestocking ways, has she? I hope not, she was just getting really interesting.”
“The formal dinner where she wore trousers instead of a dress was very diverting,” Richard added.
“Oh, with the Wollstonecraft quotes!” Frederick grinned. “The expression on Lord Spencer’s face! Priceless. I sent her Paine and Godwin too, so hopefully she’s read them by now.”
The earl recoiled. “You did not!”
“’Fraid so, old chap,” Frederick replied. “Come to think of it, Aunt Catherine does not approve of those radicals, does she? Maybe we had better call the whole thing off. I’m sure Peg will get over all this rights of man nonsense eventually. Or elope with a carpenter; she might do that instead.”
Richard shook his head fondly. “That’s our Peg for you.”
“I, for one, would welcome a member of the family with real practical skills for a change.”
Henry could not be as sanguine about this possibility because there was every chance that his daughter might do it just to spite all of them. “Boys,” he snapped. “Stop this nonsense! There will be no talk of Wollstonecraft, or Godwin, or Paine, and especially not of eloping with carpenters. All of the family will be here. We will present a united front. Catherine will be bringing Anne, and—”
“Wait, Anne is coming?” Frederick’s mouth hung open.
Richard blinked. “Anne is coming to London?”
They did not seem quite able to comprehend this, and taking advantage of their moment of stupidity, Henry ploughed on. “Yes, Anne is coming, and as you know, she does not get much of a chance to meet the rest of the family, so this is a good chance for her to get to know you all, and for Catherine to see what good influences you are, so that Anne might visit again, and perhaps she will finally get a second opinion instead of relying on that bloody idiot doctor of hers. If the whole family is here, then Catherine will have to reconsider, especially when she sees how much Anne enjoys being around the family.”
His sons blinked back at him. He wished they would not look so bloody sceptical.
Suddenly, Richard brightened. “The whole family, Freddy! That means Darcy will be here.”
“Oh thank god. He can deal with her, and we can teach Georgie to cheat at cards while he’s distracted.”
“An important life skill. Can’t understand why Darce won’t let her learn.”
Frederick seemed to realise his father was glaring at him with enough force to make most people combust on the spot, but he only leaned over the earl’s desk to clap him on the shoulder. “Not to worry, Father, I will make sure Anne learns too. I am nothing if not a dutiful son and heir.”
“If I could disinherit you I would,” the earl told him.
“Yes, well, we can’t have everything in life, old man.”
“I wonder why Aunt Catherine does not visit us more often?” Richard asked dryly.
Henry ordered them both out of his study instead of admitting that Richard had a point.
All in all, the meeting had gone much better than he hoped.
*
Catherine arrived with her usual pomp, which involved no ceremony whatsoever, but enough impetuousness to imply a great deal that she was sparing them from. The newer servants scurried away from her under orders, terrified, whilst the old guard merely gave the earl a sideways glance and waited for his nod to comply. It was kind of them to pretend that Catherine did not take over any space she occupied by sheer presence. Money simply could not buy servants that good, they had to be earned. The earl was rather touched, really.
“Henry, what on earth are you doing with your staff? Half of them are so unresponsive and slow! If you like, I can take them in hand for you.”
Or maybe they just knew they could leech a lot of money on their next drinking night if they were able to dramatically recreate Catherine’s… presence. That could also be it.
“My servants know what they’re doing, Catherine, leave them be.”
“Aunty!” Frederick emerged, beaming, from the parlour before she could launch into more criticism. The servants did have a lot of blackmail material on him. Henry may or may not have helped. “What a long time it has been!”
“Ah, dear Frederick.” Catherine was not a woman for shorthand. “A long time indeed. We are always so disappointed when you are not able to make it to Rosings for Easter, but I do appreciate how difficult estate management can be—”
Saying this, she then proceeded to lecture Frederick on how to find a worthy steward and make his management more efficient so that he could get away for a Rosings visit for a few weeks. Frederick’s smile became increasingly fixed.
He was rescued by Richard, who opened the parlour door and made urgent gestures. “Aunty, how tired you and Anne must be from the journey! Please, come and sit.”
“Your manners are as good as ever, nephew,” Catherine said, taking the invitation and not looking at her brother very carefully. This was what passed for subtlety with her.
Anne trailed after her. She seemed even more slender than in Henry’s memory, nearly so pale as to be translucent. At her heels followed a faithful lady’s maid, but Henry scooped up his niece's arm and linked it with his own.
“Uncle!” Anne said, blinking. She smiled, a wan thing to match her figure, but at least steady. “I’m so pleased to see you again.”
“And I you, my dear,” the earl replied. Already, most of the irritation caused by Catherine was melting away. Anne really did resemble his other sister very strongly, with her paler features and smaller body. Next to Catherine they would look alike, as Catherine and the older Anne had always looked alike beside one another, but it was the aunt and not the mother she truly resembled. “I always look forward to your letters.”
Anne looked both astonished and pleased by this. “I try to be a very loyal correspondent,” she said. Her face fell. “Since I cannot do much else.”
The lady’s maid bumped into Anne from behind, mumbling an apology that seemed too perfunctory. Anne stood up straighter, and Henry let his gaze be drawn away. A lady’s maid was called to assist her mistress in any way possible, even sometimes in ways that were more intimate than those outside the family should be permitted. Goodness only knew that the earl’s valet had rescued him from many an awkward conversation with invented ‘urgent business’… after many years of service. Anne’s maid had only been in her role for a year.
“How have you been, my dear?” Henry asked, deciding not to mind the lady’s maid for now. “Your letters do not tell me much about your health.”
Anne hesitated, and her mother leapt into the gap, interrupting a lecture to his sons. “Anne’s health is always indifferent. A shame! She would have cut a fine figure in the London crush, if her health had allowed her to be here for a season.”
Anne nodded and fell utterly silent.
Henry sighed, and left her by Peg when they were all assembled in the parlour. Hopefully Peg would be able to shock her into some speech if nothing else. Nothing too shocking, Henry hoped, but Peg had forebore trousers with very bad grace, so perhaps what came out of her mouth would be worse to compensate. Catherine was talking so loudly to Richard and Frederick that hopefully she wouldn’t notice.
“…very pleased to hear that Darcy and Georgiana will be joining us later,” she was saying. “I hope Georgiana goes on well, by the by. Darcy tells me she is musically talented, but I hope she knows that she must practise if she wishes to be truly proficient.”
“I promise you, ma’am, she practises most constantly,” Richard replied. “Your directives are entirely unneeded.”
“Ah! What a good, obliging girl she is! My Anne should have been a great proficient, had her health allowed her to apply…”
Personally, the earl thought that Georgiana could be a little more obliging if she spent more time practising her speech, or just her ability to be in the same room as other people without being terrified, and a little less time attached to the pianoforte, but as that simpleton George had seen fit to leave her guardianship to her brother and his youngest son only, his hands were tied.
“Henry!” Catherine’s voice jolted him from his thoughts. “I have been meaning to ask, will your wife be joining us for the family dinner?”
His children tensed.
“She is sadly indisposed,” Henry said smoothly. This lie was very practised now. “You know her health has not been what it was since… in some years. I believe she is in Bath currently to take the waters.”
This lie worked on other people—at least, it worked enough that the gossip never got too bad—but it never worked on his sister. She pursed her lips. “Henry, she is your lawful wife. You simply must find a way to reconcile. It is indecent! Rumours will start, if they haven’t already.”
Henry forced a light laugh. “Ah, but you know the Countess! She will do as she feels best!”
“That is precisely my point! It should be your job to decide what she knows best, not hers! Really, Henry, I am far too busy at home to be concerning myself with your marriage, but I cannot simply sit by while this nonsense goes on.”
If you ever allowed Sir Lewis to dictate your thoughts, I will eat my own elbow, the earl thought but did not say. His children’s body language had progressed rapidly past tense and well into the realms of ‘statue-like’ and so he added, “Of course you are right, dear sister, but you have had a long journey. Surely this is not what you want to discuss after such confinement in your carriage.”
“Very true! We may always discuss this later.” The children barely had a chance to relax before she added, “Frederick, I would like to hear what thoughts you have given to marriage lately.”
Frederick had been in the middle of taking a sip of tea, and choked on it. Richard swooped in to answer on his behalf before Peg could launch into a speech about the oppressive state of marriage for women. “Ah, you know Freddy, Aunty! He is so… specific in what he looks for in a bride!”
“Indeed,” Frederick added, through a last few coughs. “Whoever I marry will be the next Countess of Matlock, after all, surely a role that cannot fall to just anyone.”
“No, indeed,” Catherine said in tones of horror. “The Countess of Matlock must be a very dignified lady! She will need to be accomplished in all the usual arts, improve her mind by extensive reading, and furthermore, there must be a certain something in her manner, in her way of walking, in her air, which complements her beauty and grace. But do not tarry!” She added sternly. “Such ladies are sure to be sought by other men.”
It was a wonder to the earl that such ladies should exist at all. He knew only a handful women who met half of Catherine’s criteria, most of whom were fictitious, and therefore generally taken by better men, or already quite dead, or occasionally both.
Frederick’s raised eyebrows indicated thoughts along somewhat similar lines, but he confined himself to a mild, “I hope I have myself some qualities which might recommend me to such impressive ladies.”
“Chance would be a fine thing,” Peg muttered.
Frederick glared at her, but turned it into a look of brotherly fondness when it became clear that Catherine hadn’t heard what she said.
“And you, Margaret—” Catherine believed ‘Peg’ to be a very common name and refused to use it, possibly because she could not acknowledge that her niece was common by any metric except by the happenstance of being born to an earl and countess, an unfortunate coincidence which Peg continued to take personally. “It is high time you also thought of marrying! You are already twenty; surely by now you must want your own establishment. I hear it is often the fashion with young ladies these days to appear aloof so that they might take their pick of many fine gentlemen, but let me tell you…”
With Peg’s face rapidly purpling, Henry hurriedly jumped in to add, “Peg already knows exactly what is expected of her, I’m sure she does not need a reminder.” Richard looked like he was suppressing laughter, and so he added, “And I’m sure it is difficult for her to think seriously of marriage when neither of her elder brothers has yet entered the matrimonial state, and she has no wiser siblings to turn to for advice.”
“How true!” Frederick said. He was not above throwing his brother into trouble if he thought it would be amusing, often forgetting that his brother would then do the same thing to him at the next available opportunity. “Richard will inherit no grand estate, so I’m sure he does not need to be so specific in his choice of bride. Where are my nieces and nephews, brother? Must you keep me waiting in this way?”
Richard looked faintly panicked as Catherine took this subject up with aplomb.
“Knows exactly what is expected of her my arse!” Peg hissed fiercely.
Henry pinched the bridge of his nose and could only be grateful it had been hissed instead of shouted. “I did only say that you knew what was expected, my darling,” he pointed out. “Not that you would necessarily follow it.”
Anne’s eyes were as wide as saucers. Peg sniffed contemptuously with narrowed eyes, but allowed this excuse to pass. Maybe if the earl encouraged her bluestocking streak she would become an intellectual embarrassment, instead of only an embarrassment?
Peg was not in a forgiving enough mood to engage with the rest of the family and chose to spend the rest of the hour lecturing Anne on the finer points of Wollstonecraft, whilst Henry kept up a running criticism so that the conversation might reasonably be framed as a warning at a later date. At least Peg spoke in an undertone, so when every now and then Catherine demanded of Anne, “Dearest, what are you speaking of with your cousin?” Anne could reply ‘education’ or ‘reading’ in a whisper and Catherine would accept it without understanding that the rest of the context was about kicking men in the shins and spitting in their faces. This was not what The Rights of Woman had been about when Henry read it, but it surely was in Peg’s recounting.
Morosely, he contemplated whether it would be worse for Anne to mention the conversation at a later date, or for her to innocently tell Catherine that her uncle had supplied her with The Evil No Good Radical Book by the Evil No Good Radical Woman. The latter, at least, would expand her reading, and either way Catherine would probably strangle him. Book it was.