Mr Darcy- My Hero

by Zoë Burton

  Darcy leaned close, glancing at Mary, who had quietly entered while he and Elizabeth spoke, and settled herself and her book into a chair near the door. “I feel the same, my love.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow,” Elizabeth whispered.

  ~~~***~~~

  The next morning at a quarter to eleven, the Bennets’ carriage pulled up in front of the church in Meryton. Mr. Bennet stepped out first, handing down his wife and daughters. Elizabeth was last, and as she took his arm to walk into the church, she could hear whispers and see the pointing fingers of the villagers who had stopped in their tracks to watch. Looking to her father, Elizabeth smiled at his wink. Facing forward, they walked together through the doors of the church.

  Jane, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia had waited in a line along the path from the carriage to the church door. They heard the whispers as well as Elizabeth had, and so were not surprised when someone approached. Speaking to Lydia, Mrs. King, whose husband’s estate was beyond Netherfield, asked, “What is happening?”

  Lydia had never been known for tact. Having felt the scorn of the neighborhood for no legitimate reason had left her with a bitterness of spirit and a desire to marry well so that she could leave the area with impunity. Knowing as she did that her questioner was one of the main carriers of the vicious gossip about her sister, Lydia replied as only Lydia could. “Lizzy is marrying Mr. Darcy. We are to have a grand wedding breakfast and you,” she paused for just a heartbeat, lifting her nose and looking down it, “are not invited.” Without so much as a by-your-leave, Lydia whirled toward the church and marched inside, her three sisters trailing her without a glance in Mrs. King’s direction.

  The ceremony proceeded as all weddings do, and soon, Darcy and Elizabeth were signing the register. They rode back to Longbourn in Darcy’s coach and, after a suitable period of accepting congratulations and dispensing thanks, and eating wedding cake, the newly minted married couple boarded the equipage once more, this time headed to London.

  Epilogue

  Purvis Lodge, Nine years later

  Five-year-old Perceval Goulding watched his father hand the farmer a cloth-covered basket and a handful of coins. There had been many times in his short life that he had witnessed similar actions, and he knew that his Papa was helping someone who was not as blessed as his own family was. Perceval could not imagine having to go to bed hungry or to not have warm clothing to wear. He looked down at his toy, a miniature curricle and horse, and pushed it along. Papa had told him that not all little boys had toys as fine as his curricle, and that he should be grateful for it and treat it well so that it would last. Perceval always tried to be gentle with it; he could not bear to disappoint his father.

  Hearing the door click as it closed, Perceval looked up and, seeing his father seated once more and alone, stood to his feet, picked up his toy, and approached the large desk.

  Robert Goulding saw his eldest son approach from the corner of his eye. With a delighted smile, he picked the youngster up and placed him on his lap, kissing his cheek. “You were a very good boy to play so quietly while your Papa had company.”

  “Thank you.” Perceval placed his curricle on top of his father’s papers and turned to throw his small arms around the gentleman’s neck. He smiled and rubbed his nose on Robert’s coat, comforted by the feel of the strong arms that surrounded him. Sleepily, he asked, “Papa, who is Mrs. Darcy?”

  Robert stilled. “That is a name I have not heard in quite a while. Why do you ask?”

  “Mama and Grandmama were visiting in the drawing-room this morning and I heard them talking about her.”

  Robert’s hand continued the gentle rubbing over Perceval’s back that had begun when the boy laid his head against his chest. “I see.” Robert grew quiet as memories washed over him. Taking a deep breath, he finally answered his son.

  “Mrs. Darcy used to be Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and she lived at Longbourn.” He tilted his head to look down at Perceval, and seeing that he was still awake, asked, “Do you remember driving past it yesterday?”

  Perceval nodded. “It was very pretty.”

  “Oh, yes,” his father agreed, “it is. So were all the daughters of the house. Anyway, I once asked Miss Elizabeth to be my wife, and she said no. I was angry and resentful and said some things about her that were … ungentlemanly.” Robert paused. He knew he must tread carefully. How much about that horrible time did a five-year-old need to know, nearly a decade after the fact? “Miss Elizabeth’s friends and acquaintances all believed the stories and thought she was a bad lady.”

  “Was she?” Perceval liked stories with a bad person and a good person. They were so exciting!

  “No, she was not. She had done nothing that I had accused her of. In my anger, I lied about her. She was very sad, and very angry at me. This is why I tell you to be nice to your brother, even when you are upset with him.” When his son nodded, Robert continued. “In the end, Mrs. Darcy taught me a valuable lesson. She said that if I did not learn to behave better, no one would ever marry me and I would be alone forever.” His voice grew soft as he both realized that Perceval had drifted off to sleep and remembered the hurt and anger in Elizabeth’s expression that autumn day so long ago. “I have tried to improve. I hope I have.”

  Robert was startled out of his contemplation when his wife, Maria, brushed the hair off his forehead.

  “Where were you, my love?”

  “Oh, I was just thinking about things.” Robert took his wife’s hand in his free one. “Have I improved much since you first knew me?”

  Maria lifted her brows. “Since I was a girl, yes. Since we have married? I suppose so, yes, but you had changed quite a bit before you even began calling on me. Why do you ask?”

  “In what ways did I change?”

  “You have become more like my father than yours,” Maria laughed. “Your mother sometimes calls you, “Sir Robert”, you know. You were not as congenial when you were younger.”

  Robert shook his head, fascinated to hear her perspective. “I do enjoy entertaining and making my guests feel at home. I am not ridiculous, am I?”

  “Oh, not at all. I know Papa can be, especially telling that story about Saint James’ over and over at every gathering. Your stories have more variation in them.” Maria smiled at her husband. “You also take good care of the needy in the area. And, look how you helped Mr. Bennet when he was ill last winter.”

  Robert sighed. “Yes. I was not certain he would accept the assistance, especially given our history. He told me that he and Mrs. Bennet forgive me and that all of his daughters married well and are happy.” Squeezing Maria’s hand, Robert looked down. “I am glad.”

  Maria Lucas Goulding examined her husband. She had been young when the debacle that still plagued his conscience occurred, just five and ten, but she well remembered the gossip and anger of the townspeople. For her, it had been a confusing time. She was suddenly not allowed to visit with her best friends—the two youngest Bennet girls. The stories did not seem correct. She could not imagine Lizzy Bennet doing any of the things people said she did, but all the adults—even her elder sister, Charlotte, who had been very good friends with Lizzy—seemed so certain she had. “You know that your confessions turned the tide for the whole town. I remember my parents talking about how distressed they were to have believed the rumours. A lifelong friendship had been broken.”

  Robert nodded. “Yes. I tried for years to help people mend those fences, but it was a long time before anyone believed anything I had to say. I had to prove myself worthy.”

  “You did, and they did, too. Mary Bennet stayed in Meryton when she married her uncle’s clerk, and told me that it was refreshing to attend parties and dinners where gossip was no longer part of the entertainment. Even Lydia Carter attends when she is visiting her parents, and after Lizzy, she was the angriest.”

  “Yes,” Robert chuckled. “The rector once praised me for singlehandedly digging up the root of
jealous gossip in Meryton and saving him the effort.”

  Maria smiled and reached for Perceval. “So you see, not only have you changed for the better, you have influenced an entire village to do so. You are greatly respected and loved now, Robert. You are welcoming and loving to everyone you meet.” Holding her sleeping boy close, she leaned over and kissed her husband. “I am proud of you.”

  “Thank you, dear.” Robert smiled fondly at her, watching as she carried his heir out the door. He closed his eyes and prayed, thanking his Heavenly Father for his family, and for the verbal drubbing Elizabeth Darcy had given him so long ago.

  Pemberley, the same day

  Darcy entered the music room, his eyes on the letter in his hand. Stopping a few steps in, he looked up, searching for his wife. He found her at the pianoforte, turning pages for their eldest son, Fitzwilliam George Bennet Darcy. At eight years of age, the boy thought he ought to be done with music lessons, but his determined mother disagreed. Darcy chuckled to see the roll of young Bennet’s eyes at his mother’s soft comment.

  Stepping to the instrument and arranging his features into a serious expression, he cleared his throat and directed a pointed look at his son. “Your playing is excellent. You should thank your mother for insisting you learn.”

  Bennet’s face flushed at his father’s words. “Thank you, Papa.” Darcy could tell that his son wished to say more, and was happy the lad had learned not to speak every thought in his head.

  “If your Mama is finished with you, you may go. I have need of her.”

  Bennet’s eyes lit up and he turned to his mother. “Mama?”

  Elizabeth smirked at her husband before she replied to her son. “I will release you for today. You may go up and see what your tutor has for you to do.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Bennet kissed Elizabeth’s cheek before he stood and bowed to his father. Then, he made a beeline for the door.

  Looking after him, Elizabeth cried, “Walk!” She sighed. “I am certain he did not hear me.”

  Darcy grinned at her. “I doubt he did.” He tilted his head. “I was not lying when I said he is doing very well with his music.”

  “I know,” Elizabeth murmured as she straightened the sheets. Pausing, she gazed up at her husband. “Perhaps I should allow him to stop. I so enjoy the time we share, and he is growing up so quickly. I know I do not have much time left with him. He prefers the company of his friends to me already.” She sighed as Darcy wrapped his hand around her waist and pulled her to him.

  “You still have a good decade with him under our roof. All will be well. He yet comes to you when he is tired or hurt. There is that.”

  “Yes, there is.” Elizabeth allowed herself to be enveloped in Darcy’s arms. She buried her nose in his chest, breathing in his scent.

  Darcy smiled to feel his wife burrow into him. He held her tighter; he enjoyed these moments of affection every bit as much as she did. He kissed the top of her head and then, nudging her with his nose, pressed his lips to hers.

  After a long, deep kiss, they pulled away just enough to see each other’s faces. Elizabeth asked, “What brought you to the music room? I thought you were attending to your correspondence this morning.”

  “So I was.” Darcy moved the hand that held the letter away from Elizabeth’s back and presented the missive to her. “I got a letter today from your father.”

  “I would imagine I have a note, too. I have not seen the post yet today.” Elizabeth took the paper and began to read. “He is feeling better. I am glad; I was concerned about him. His illness lingered for so long!”

  “It did. He sings praises for young Goulding for stepping in at the worst of it. He says Longbourn would have failed if not for him.”

  “Is he still doing penance, do you think?” Elizabeth looked up at Darcy, a crease beginning to form between her brows.

  Darcy tilted his head to one side and back, shrugging his shoulders. “Perhaps. I rather doubt it, though. I think that he simply learned his lesson and has chosen the way of the humble over that of the arrogant.”

  “You are probably right. Jane told me last year that when she and Bingley attended the monthly assembly during their visit with my parents, the very same Mrs. Long who was so condemning to us all approached her to apologize again. Jane said the very atmosphere in Meryton is different. I thought it was only because she no longer lives in the area, but she denied that. Perhaps she was correct to say the populace learned an important lesson there.” Elizabeth paused, thinking of her last interaction with Robert Goulding. “Do you recall our ride to London from our wedding, and what we declared we would do?”

  “I do remember it. We were going to be the happiest couple in all of England, regardless of the opinions of anyone else.”

  Elizabeth squeezed Darcy’s waist. “We have done that, have we not? Even the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh has declared us so, and you know she is never wrong.”

  Darcy laughed. “Aunt Catherine. She is something. I have become rather fond of her now that she approves of you.”

  Grinning, Elizabeth replied, “Indeed. And, Mrs. Carlisle?”

  “Bingley’s sister has also grown on me, though I still do not trust her as far as I can throw her. If not for Mr. Carlisle, they would not be granted entrance.”

  “Love changed her remarkably, did it not? Who would have thought her capable?” Elizabeth shook her head. It had been easier to forgive Caroline Bingley Carlisle for her sins than it had Robert Goulding for his. “Though I notice that Mr. Carlisle does not bring his wife to Derbyshire often, despite her brother and the estate she loves the most being a mere thirty miles apart.”

  Darcy shrugged. “He does not, but I believe that is more because he prefers town than anything to do with Pemberley. He comes to our area of the country for his wife’s sake, not his own.”

  “You are probably correct.” Elizabeth sighed. “I am through with this walk down memory lane, I think. I should go find my loving husband and see if he will walk to the lake with me.”

  Darcy leaned back, eyebrows raised almost to his hairline. “I was to meet my beautiful wife there in a few minutes. Perhaps I could escort you?” He grinned to hear his Elizabeth’s laugh. Holding out his arm, he waited for her to wrap her hands around it and proceeded to lead her out of the room.

  The End

  The Essence of Love

  Acknowledgements

  First, I thank Jesus Christ, my Savior and Guide, without whom this story would not have been told. I love you!

  Additional thanks go to my dear friends, Rose and Leenie, who kicked my backside into gear and then helped me plan a schedule to get this book finished.

  I can’t ignore my wonderful cold readers, Gail and Cheryl, who keen eyes and wonderful insights and advice made the story infinitely better.

  Finally, thank you to Paul Panak, owner, designer, and chief bottle washer at Burn Knives and pastor of New Life Christian Center in Kinsman, Ohio, for generously sharing his knowledge of stilettos with me. Your sermons aren’t half-bad either. ;)

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Prologue

  Dear Lizzy,

  My visit with my godmother is going very well. I now understand better why you are so fond of visiting London. There is so much here to see and do! It is more diverting than I ever thought possible!

  My aunt is a wonderful woman. She reminds me of you, Lizzy, with her clever remarks and the way she makes sport of those around her. I think you would like her very much. I cannot imagine why we have not been to her house before, although I think it would be disrespectful of me to ask my parents to explain. It is likely none of my concern.

  I have been to Gunter’s twice with Aunt for ices, and four times to Hatchards. My aunt did insist that I buy something other than sermons.
She says that she is determined to add to my liveliness. I worry at times that she wishes me to be like Lydia. She has assured me this is not so, but I wonder at it. I could not bear to be wild and untamed. I should prefer to be demure and accomplished, but if it will make Aunt Agnes happy, then I will comply.

  On one of my visits to the bookshop, I met the most delightful young lady. Her name is Miss Georgiana Darcy, and she is but two or three years younger than I, about Lydia’s age. She lives on Park Lane, across from Hyde Park, her parents are dead, and she has an older brother who is one of her guardians. She is such a beautiful girl! Lydia and Kitty would do well to have someone like her to emulate. But I digress.

  Miss Darcy and I struck up an almost instant friendship. It was amazing when I think about it. Even before I knew the location of her home, I could tell by her gown that she was far above me, yet she was so friendly and obliging! She did not seem to mind at all that I am not as high as she.

  She introduced her brother to my aunt and me, and then invited us for tea the next afternoon. Their home is beautiful! I had half-expected an ostentatious show of wealth, but it was not that way at all. It was a very elegant place. You would enjoy it, I think.

  Oh, Lizzy, I hate to ask a favor like this, but would you come to stay with Aunt and me for a few weeks? I am overwhelmed with all that I am seeing and doing and feel that I need a sister with whom to discuss it all. I know that Jane is going to Aunt Gardiner’s to help with the new baby, and I do not want to interfere with that, nor do I wish for the help of Kitty or Lydia. You know that they ignore me, and their behavior is simply far too inappropriate for them to attend the events Aunt and I are invited to. You are the best suited, anyway. I have always felt a closer affinity to you, and I know that you, with your keen insight into characters and events, would be just the assistant I need. And, I would like to introduce you to Miss Darcy. If it helps you to decide, she would like to make your acquaintance, as well. Please say you will come!