Memory: Volume 2, Trials to Bear, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (Memory: A Tale of Pride and Prejudice)

by Wells, Linda

  “I understand that, even to our closest family it is strange, but it is our choice. Now, tell me what of Pemberley frightens you.”

  “Jane told me how overwhelming it is.”

  “Jane was uncomfortable with it, that is true. It is, as Elizabeth says, just a home, a very large and well-appointed one, but still, a home. It has family, servants, furniture, and decoration.” He saw her head shaking and shrugged. “I have perhaps a biased opinion, as does Georgiana, but we grew up there. Elizabeth was overwhelmed at first, but she was determined to learn all that she could, and is now much loved by our staff and supremely confident in her role. She can teach you a great deal if you let her, it will undoubtedly be useful one day when you marry.”

  “I do not think that I will marry anyone who owns a mansion!” She blushed, and looked at her hands. “But … I do like to expand my mind.”

  “Excellent! Then take in Elizabeth’s instruction. You never know.” He glanced at de Bourgh’s journal. “Speaking of which, what has the captain’s scribbling taught you?”

  “Oh!” Mary blushed brighter than ever. “This was written when he was but a boy of fifteen. It is full of wonder, and tales of hardship. He narrowly escaped so many perils.”

  “Storms?”

  “Yes, and disease, and … pirates!” She whispered. “He was in battles!”

  “I imagine that he was much more frightened than he admits in the tales he recorded.” Darcy nodded. “Can you read between the lines of his boyhood bragging?”

  Mary smiled shyly then touched the book fondly. “Yes. He was very lonely, and appreciative of the companions he had, and the few officers who treated him kindly. He saw much of the world, but he longed to go home and live in a house.”

  “And now some ten-odd years later his dreams are come true.” Darcy smiled. “Rosings is similar to Pemberley, not as large, but still a mansion and significant estate. It has been a great adjustment for him. It is like nothing he had ever known before, and he has done remarkably well with the transition. He is a very determined and grateful man.” Seeing her thinking it over he added, “You will have a taste of his life living with us. When next you meet, you might discuss it with authority, and tell him if you like it, and how you adjusted to the change from Longbourn and school. It is an experience that you will have in common.”

  “I … I suppose that I might.” Mary bit her lip and looking up at him, whispered. “He likes me, I think.”

  “I think so, too.”

  “I agree.” Elizabeth said softly.

  “Are you eavesdropping, love?” Darcy looked down to smile at her.

  “You can hardly call me out for eavesdropping when you are aware of my presence.” She sat up and smiled at Mary. “I like him, too.”

  Darcy pinched her and she jumped. “We are nearly home.” He said innocently and jumped when she pinched him back.

  “I thought so; I noticed the fence with the broken gate a few moments ago.” She laughed at his surprise. “You have your landmarks, and I have mine.” She sat up and stretched. “Oh, there is Lambton! Georgiana!” She gave her a little kick and startled her sister awake. “Look!”

  “Oh!” She sat up and nudged Mary. “See! There is the book shop I told you about, and the baker, and oh, look! There is the wishing well!”

  “Wishing well?” Darcy looked out and back to her. “It is the village water well, I did not know of wishes being granted there.”

  “Well, you are a boy.” She said with exasperation. “It only works for girls.”

  “Of course.” He chuckled. “And who told you this?”

  “Nanny Kate.”

  “Ah.” His brow creased and he looked at Elizabeth. “Does Rosa need a nanny yet?”

  “Well, not yet.” She laughed and smiled. “She does little else than eat and sleep, with occasional performances for our entertainment.”

  “Georgiana’s governess, Mrs. Somers, left us last year to care for her father; I understand from Mrs. Mercer that he died a few months back.” He looked at Georgiana then to Elizabeth. “Perhaps she might want to return and settle in with us again? I thought that Mrs. Robbins will wish to find a new family, now that we are well and Rosa sleeps through the night.” They read each other’s eyes. A trusted nanny to help with Georgiana until she returned to school, then to help with their children as their family grew might be just the thing until Georgiana was ready for a companion. “Shall I contact her and see if she is available?”

  “I think that would be a wonderful idea, although, we may want to keep Mrs. Robbins so that we may have time together, now that we are home. After all, she expected to be here for a year. Perhaps Mrs. Somers can continue Mary’s education while she waits for Rosalie to grow up a bit more.” Elizabeth laughed when his eyes lit up with the thought of them having long adventures around the estate, then turned when she heard a squeal and saw Georgiana’s delight. “I think that you have no objections?”

  “Oh no!” She cried. “I have missed her.”

  “Good then, I will write to her tomorrow.” Darcy glanced at Elizabeth. “Please remind me.”

  Elizabeth squeezed his hand and caressed his brow. “I will, Fitzwilliam.” He looked down and entwined his fingers with hers, and sighed.

  “EXCELLENT!” Layton grinned. “They are home, they are well, and they invite us to visit soon.” He set down the letter from Darcy and smiled at Alicia. “Pack your trunks my dear, we are to Pemberley! And they invite us to bring Margaret, as well.”

  “Oh how wonderful!” She read the letter and laughed. “He is ecstatic to be home.”

  “I cannot possibly imagine why.” He said dryly. “Reading of their adventures is like following a serial in the newspaper. It is torture waiting for the next letter from anyone with news. I was glad to be of service to Audrey and Singleton, but I was torn, wishing to return to London.”

  “There is little we could have added, dear.” She kissed the top of his head and settled on the arm of his chair. “We will take over sending information to Richard. When do your parents return?”

  He consulted another newly-arrived letter. “Father expects the trial for Mrs. Younge to take place in the next week or so before court ends its quarter session. Parliament will close Friday, so he is fully available to testify whenever they get the word. She will undoubtedly be convicted. Then they will return to Matlock. Unless they look in at Ashcroft on the way, I suppose that they will … no, Audrey and Singleton will likely join us at Matlock.” He rubbed his chin. “Perhaps we will all be meeting up at Pemberley. Hmm.”

  “What is it?”

  “I was just thinking, Pemberley may be hosting quite a large party soon, he mentions Elizabeth’s sister and her new husband will be passing through on their wedding trip. I wonder if they are well enough for it. Perhaps we should wait to visit after they return from taking Georgiana to school? Give them a chance to heal some more?”

  “Oh, you know that Elizabeth and Darcy will happily send their guests off to occupy themselves if they are not feeling well, but your mother seems to think they are fine.” She smiled and kissed him when he looked up. “We are hardly demanding guests. Give you a horse and a gun and you will be happy chasing birds, as will the rest of the men. We ladies have a whole world of children to discuss now. I am looking forward to it, very much.”

  “Well then, let us start the planning.” He handed her a second sheet and smiled. “Oh, and here is their advice for travelling with a baby. Leave it to Darcy to think of everything! It never occurred to me to have the baby in our coach!”

  “I MAY AS WELL PLACE A COT here and take up residence.” Fitzwilliam glanced around the courtroom and muttered to his father.

  “Quiet.” Lord Matlock stared across at Mrs. Younge as she sniffed into her handkerchief, and shielded her face from the bright glare of the sun beaming into her eyes from the suspended looking glass. “What do you think she will get?”

  “Transportation or hard labour.” Fitzwilliam shrugged
. “Although I vote for hanging. She could join her dear Wickham.”

  “Picking oakum is a worthy task.” De Bourgh winked.

  “Always thinking of your ships.” Fitzwilliam snorted.

  “hmmm.” Shifting his gaze to the arguing jury, Lord Matlock watched as they muttered. Suddenly the gavel knocked out its signal.

  “Has the jury reached a verdict?” Asked the judge.

  “Guilty, sir.”

  “Very well then.” Mrs. Younge was pulled to her feet and the judge addressed her. “Dorothy Younge, you are found guilty of theft, you are hereby sentenced to seven years transportation.” He banged the gavel. “Next!”

  Mrs. Younge sobbed, “NO!!!” A guard led her from the room and Stewart turned to smile at Lord Matlock and Fitzwilliam.

  “It was not the rope, which is what she deserves. But she will not be back.”

  “What becomes of women over there?” Fitzwilliam asked as they made their way out.

  “Well, they get assignments, perhaps as servants to landowners, or work in the factories. Lucky for her she was a sewing mistress, eh?” De Bourgh shrugged. “I was on a couple of transport ships before the privateers took it over. Hellish conditions. If she’s smart, she’ll offer herself to an officer or some convicted man for protection. It’s a long journey; she’ll keep him happy, if she stays alive. She isn’t a whore now, they don’t send them over, but she will be considered one by the time she arrives. Maybe the officer will marry her, or if she behaves and is not pregnant when she arrives, she’ll be made available to the colonists.” He laughed. “I remember being aboard a ship, and the docks were swarmed by colonists fighting over the women. Too many lonely men, not enough women in that land.”

  “Well they want it to be a colony, not just a prison.” They made their way out of the Old Bailey and stood on the steps. “Thank you again for your help.” Lord Matlock shook Stewart’s hand and offered him an envelope. He held up his hand.

  “No, no thank you.”

  “Oh, I am sorry; I should have given it to the solicitor.” He looked around and Stewart cleared his throat.

  “No … I … This was for Darcy.” He smiled and the other men nodded. “I made too many errors, it is the least I can do.”

  “What are your plans now?” Fitzwilliam leaned on a wall and crossed his arms. “Mrs. Stewart brought an estate with her to the marriage.”

  “Yes, she did.” He looked at his boots and back up to the building. “I am undecided. I have come far and done well. I just might continue here for a bit, maybe see if I can be a judge one day.” He shrugged. “Be my own man, I guess.”

  “Really?” Lord Matlock smiled. “Proving yourself?”

  “I suppose. Anyway, if I grow weary of it, or do not find enough paying customers,” the men laughed, “I can settle down with my lovely bride and be a landowner, and live the life of ease you all enjoy.” Fitzwilliam cleared his throat loudly. “Well, that most of you enjoy.”

  “I am glad that you corrected yourself.” Fitzwilliam took a deep breath. “Well, who will write to Darcy?”

  “I will, I have other things to tell him.” Lord Matlock smiled. “And we will be at Pemberley soon.”

  “Well I have another case, so if you will excuse me, gentlemen?” Stewart bowed and disappeared inside.

  “And it seems that my work is done as well.” De Bourgh smiled. “Back to Rosings to prepare for my new sister. I am having the parsonage repaired for Michael.”

  “Will you come to Pemberley?” Lord Matlock asked and winked at his son. “Miss Mary, excuse me, Miss Bennet will be there.”

  De Bourgh coloured and looked at his boots. “Thank you, but … I have my own estate to run. Miss Mary …” He smiled and looked back up. “Perhaps I will see her when she returns to town with her sisters.”

  “She comes out in the spring.” Fitzwilliam nudged him.

  “I know.” He shrugged and laughed, raising his hand. “Farewell, gentlemen.”

  Father and son watched him stride confidently away. “What do you think?”

  “I do not see the attraction, but who am I to say anything? He did not grow up expecting an heiress, and he clearly is not one to see only surface beauty. There is something there for him. Besides, she is Elizabeth’s sister, and that has its merits. He is a very eligible bachelor with a target on his back, and he does not care in the least what the society ladies have to offer.”

  “Would you have offered for Elizabeth if Darcy had not been about?” Lord Matlock asked. “Be honest, it is just we two.”

  Fitzwilliam smiled and met his eye. “I will not answer that. I respect and love my wife.”

  “Did I teach you all these gentlemanly principles? I did an outstanding job!” Lord Matlock clapped him on the back. “Come, home to the ladies, they are undoubtedly itching for the news.”

  5 AUGUST 1810

  Grosvenor Street

  London

  Dear Darcy,

  I am hopeful that not only will this letter be somewhat legible, but also that it finds you and your wonderful family very well. I also hope that you are prepared to affix your smug smile of satisfaction upon your face when you learn that yes indeed, your subtle prodding was a success. I will not be taking a tour of the continent, nor of any select portions of it. It seems that a small man with a large ego has curtailed my plans, and it further seems that I am not alone in my suffering, as only the most adventurous or foolhardy are undertaking these pleasure excursions at present. Tell me, is it to be the habit of all members of your family to take such circuitous routes to my education? Would it not be simply better to tell me from the outset that my idea is harebrained? I do not mind being directed directly! Well obviously that is the point, I suppose. You hoped that I would dampen my enthusiasm before I had taken my plans so far. You would think that the tour guide would have said something, but I suppose they were hoping to receive a deposit, non-refundable, I imagine, prior to giving me the sad news. At least your interference, because that is what it was, saved me from that expense.

  Well to make a long story short, my grand tour will still be completed, but it will not be quite so grand. I will spend the next months wandering the wilds of England, Scotland, and Ireland. I suppose that this is probably not the most preferable time of the year to be moving north, but considering where I was raised, I imagine an Irish winter may not seem so terrible. Perhaps we might swing down through the Peaks ‘round Christmas, if you would care to put up three weary travellers who would undoubtedly welcome the change of companions by then? I enclose our itinerary, so please post your reply and I will hopefully find it waiting for me one day.

  Thank you for looking after me, please thank your wonderful wife, I feel her stealthy hand in this. I miss you all, and it has only been a few days. Please give my regards to your sisters, and if you can bear it, a kiss to Rosalie.

  Sincerely,

  Charles Bingley, Esq.

  “Good for you, Bingley. You figured it out.” Darcy sighed with a mixture of satisfaction and relief. The day that Bingley had announced his plans for a grand tour, Darcy knew that it was an impossible enterprise. His own tour had been fraught with too many harrowing experiences to imagine his far less-protected friend taking the journey. How many times were we held up? He mused, and was grateful for the letters of credit he carried instead of actual funds. He told Elizabeth of one such attempted robbery by desperate men, and she made him swear to never speak of it again, so frightened she was for his well-being over an experience that had long been over. Smiling to himself he reread the letter. “You will do well on this excursion, Bingley, and yes, we will be glad to host you and the Hursts at Christmas.” Chuckling, the thought of Caroline’s affront with that news made him eager to find Elizabeth and hear her laughter at the scheme. Elizabeth. His smile fell away. She should not have to be found, she should be there in her chair by his side, laughing over the letter now, and praising its legibility. Instead he was left there alone to stew over their argume
nt. The dull throb in his head reasserted itself and he closed his eyes, and rubbed his temples.

  Darcy paused and listened to the sound of the pianoforte as Georgiana, or perhaps Mary, they both were such excellent performers, played. The sound drifted through the floor, down the stairs, and into his study. He had spent the morning quietly working, immersing himself in the progress of the crops and the needs of his tenants, as well as the innumerable other details that came with Pemberley and his prolonged absence, and trying hard to concentrate and not miss anything. It was frustrating. His memory was still not quite the same, and little details seemed to escape him, but it was improving, he was sure.

  Earlier that morning, when Elizabeth gently suggested that he consider hiring a secretary, he had reacted poorly, fearing that she saw him as weakened, and hating hearing his own fears voiced by her. Obviously his attempts to hide his continued headaches and dizzy spells had not fooled her either. As usual when he did not think through his words, he said the wrong thing. She did not attempt to reassure him, only leaving him to fume.

  Of course she was correct. His father had no secretary, but then again, he also had no wife, and when Anne Darcy died, Fitzwilliam was at school. Georgiana was a baby and then a little girl, and had no contact with him other than brief visits until she was older, so George Darcy shut himself away in his study or rode out onto the estate, and worked to fill the time. Fitzwilliam Darcy had not only a vivacious wife whose company he craved, but also a daughter he did not relegate permanently to the nursery, and two nearly grown sisters who needed a male’s influence. He also had just experienced the shadow of death, and vowed to not waste a moment of his life. Looking over the stack of correspondence that awaited him, and then out the window to see Elizabeth walking in the garden alone, he nodded and knew where he wished to be. He drew forward his journal to write to his wife.

  10 August 1810

  How is it that Elizabeth knows me better than I know myself? How can she know what is best for me, but present it in such a way that I think I have made the decision when deep down, we both know that she is the one pulling the strings? Well, my love, I kneel and offer my sword. You are correct, after nearly two weeks back at home, I am ready to concede to your observations. I need help, and I have no desire to spend my life in my study. I cannot, will not, give up control, nor will I give up my personal responses to most correspondence, or my personal contact with my tenants, nor will I give up the time that I spend with my love alone in this study, working quietly together on our common duties, I treasure that far too much. But, what I will do is accept the addition of a secretary to my life, a trusted man beyond my steward to ease the burdens of this estate and my business affairs so that I may enjoy the sweet burden of my family. I trust that my dear wife will in turn relax the determined grip she has formed over our homes since she assumed her duties. She has proven herself capable in every capacity, she has undoubtedly earned the respect and love of our staff, and now that she is indeed established firmly as a worthy owner of the title Mistress of Pemberley, I wish for her to allow our people to do their duties. We have our new butler in Bernard, we have our new House Steward in Matthews, and we have Mrs. Reynolds and Nichols. You, my love, I hope, will follow your own advice to me.