by Jann Rowland
A grin appeared on the boy’s face. “Mama does not like frogs at all, Lizzy. I saw her face when we talked about looking for frogs, so I do not believe she would appreciate finding one in her bed.”
“No, I dare say she would not. If you do bring a frog into the house, remember not to inform me of it, for I should not like Mama to blame me.”
“But if I do it myself, Mama would suspect me, and we could not have that!”
The siblings laughed together. “Father would not appreciate having his peace disrupted either,” said Elizabeth. “It is best, then, that you content yourself with capturing them and admiring them near the river. Putting a frog in another’s bed is a good joke, but those who do not appreciate them would be angry.”
“What if I kept the frog in my bed?” asked the youngster.
Elizabeth laughed again. “Somehow, I doubt Mama would appreciate that either. Your mother would inform you frogs are meant to be outside, not in the house. In that, she would echo your grandmother, who, as I understand, found more than one amphibian present in the house courtesy of your uncles.”
This prompted Thomas to ask after Elizabeth’s meaning, and she shared some of the stories she had heard from her uncles with the eager boy. Though not misbehaving hellions, the Gardiner boys had gotten up to their fair share of mischief.
“Thank you for your stories,” said Thomas as they drew close to the house. “When next I see Uncle Gardiner, I shall ask to hear more of his adventures. I wonder if he would consent to have adventures with me, as you do.”
“It is possible,” said Elizabeth.
“Then I shall speak to him.”
“Do you not wish for a brother, given these stories of your uncles?” asked Elizabeth, curious of his introspection.
“Why should I wish for a brother when I have you?” asked Thomas, with clear confusion.
Elizabeth’s heart melted at his honest answer, and she stepped close and embraced him. “Why, indeed? I am lucky to be a sister to the most wonderful boy in the world, Tommy.”
With a grin, Thomas darted toward the house, calling over his shoulder: “If I am such a wonderful boy, you must come and play with my soldiers. I consider them a suitable substitute for frogs!”
Shaking her head, Elizabeth followed her brother into the house where a maid was taking his outerwear. The boy ran upstairs toward the nursery, calling for Elizabeth to follow him. It appeared there was little to do other than oblige him, and Elizabeth was about to do so when her mother entered the room.
“I hope you did not bring any frogs back, Lizzy.”
“No, Mama, there were none in evidence. It is still early.”
Lady Margaret nodded. “Please do not encourage him to bring such treasures to the house. Should I find a frog in my bed, I shall know Edward did not leave it.”
Elizabeth laughed and embraced her mother. “We discussed it, and I believe I conveyed the drawbacks to any such pranks. There should be no unexpected presents left in any of our beds.”
The voice of her brother calling out for her had Elizabeth exchanging a rueful glance with her mother before she turned to join him. It appeared great battles and deeds of heroism were in her immediate future, and she turned to them with a will.
Chapter VI
Reunions were almost universally acknowledged sweet after long separations. At present, however, Darcy would be lying to himself if he claimed he watched his brother’s carriage approach with anything other than mixed emotions.
It was not that he did not love his brother, though sometimes love and exasperation were so intimately entwined that they were impossible to separate. The two brothers were not alike in any sense—quite the opposite. Whereas Darcy was serious-minded, his brother was frivolous; Darcy tended toward careful consideration, while his brother was impetuous; his brother was at ease in any society, whereas Darcy was awkward; and while Darcy was attentive to all his duties, his brother more often than not tried to avoid his.
Thus, as the carriage pulled up before the front door of the house, Darcy watched it, wondering if his brother’s last six months spent in exile had changed him to any great extent. Then again, exile was a strong word, for, after only a week at his own estate, Alexander had found it too tame for his tastes, and had left for London—it was there he had spent his time, no doubt carousing with whatever friends were also present in the capital with him drinking more than he ought, gambling, wenching, and behaving in a manner no gentleman ought.
When the carriage came to a halt, Alexander did not wait for the footman—he grasped the handle himself instead and stepped down, his pleasure at seeing them all plain to see. While Darcy and his father greeted the younger member of their family with the soberness in keeping with their own characters, Georgiana squealed and threw herself at him, prompting him to pick her up and swing her in the air, laughing. Georgiana had always been close to them both, though for different reasons.
“Alexander,” said Mr. Darcy, grasping his son’s shoulders when he separated from his sister. “It is good to have you back with us.”
“It is good to be back, Father,” replied Alexander with a grin. “I do wonder at you summoning me now, however, for town was just becoming interesting. Shall the Darcys not attend the season this year?”
“Perhaps we shall later,” replied Mr. Darcy. Alexander refrained from saying anything in response, for he knew his father and brother did not appreciate society. Then he turned to Darcy himself.
“Hello, Brother.”
“Alexander,” replied Darcy, laying a hand on his brother’s arm. “Welcome home.”
His brother favored him with a cocksure smile he often displayed when he was about to jest. “Are the final words you spoke to me before I left to be forgotten?”
“If you recall,” replied Darcy, “I only suggested it was time for you to take life seriously.”
“Yes, and it is time we all had a serious discussion,” interjected their father. “Let us not argue the moment Alexander has alighted from the carriage. There will be time enough for disagreements later.”
Darcy nodded, but his brother regarded him as if he were trying to understand. Soon, however, they entered the house, where Alexander took to his room to change. Darcy noted his father’s stern look, warning him to avoid provoking a dispute. From what Darcy knew of his father’s purpose, he doubted such a disagreement was anything other than inevitable, but he refrained from making any comment.
The afternoon in the company of his brother was characterized by lively conversation and stories, though the one member of the family possessed of an open disposition did most of the talking. Alexander had much to say, as he always did, though he did not tell any of his indelicate tales in the presence of his sister, for which Darcy was grateful. How much was the truth and what was fiction—or embellishment—Darcy could not determine; it was always impossible when it came to his brother’s tales.
Alexander had always had a unique position within the family. As Lady Anne had been like her husband, elder son, and daughter in character, Alexander was the only one of the family of a more open disposition. Georgiana had always been close to him, as had Mr. Darcy, who enjoyed Alexander’s engaging manners. Darcy could not say that his father preferred his brother to himself, but it was clear to Darcy that in such circumstances, his father enjoyed his brother’s company more than Darcy’s.
Though he had wondered, at times, if he should feel more offense because of it, Darcy had long ago decided there was no reason to do so. Alexander was a jovial man, his ease in company something Darcy could never duplicate. Darcy knew his father loved and esteemed him, his relationship with his father differed from what Alexander shared with the elder man; Darcy thought it was more meaningful in many ways. Mr. Darcy was always proper and showed no favorites, and thus, there was nothing to resent, even if Darcy had fancied in himself a resentful temper.
That night after dinner the elder Darcy raised the subject Darcy had been waiting for all day—the
crux of the reason his father had called Alexander home. As Alexander was not unintelligent, Darcy thought his brother knew it himself, though he had not spoken on the subject.
“I know you would have preferred to stay in London for the season,” said their father, opening the conversation, “but I have a specific reason for wishing you in Derbyshire again.”
“Oh?” asked Alexander, his manner all insouciance. “I would never have guessed, Father. Shall you inform me of your reasons, or should I attempt to divine them for myself?”
The study in which they sat—Georgiana having retired—boasted the comfort of a roaring fire in the grate, the three men of the family having pulled three armchairs close so they could speak. With a glass of his father’s fine brandy, Alexander sprawled in a chair, one foot resting on the table, while he took periodic sips of his drink.
“You are not as insensible as you sometimes attempt to portray yourself,” said Mr. Darcy, resting a faint smile on his younger son. “And I am not deceived. You know why I have summoned you.”
“Yes, I have some inkling of it,” replied Alexander. “But I should like to hear your reasons all the same.”
Mr. Darcy gave him a distracted nod before he said: “Very well. As you know, you have an estate of your own, which William has been managing in your stead. Though the lure of town and the amusements you may find there are compelling at your time of life, I believe for you to begin pursuing serious matters.”
“And I thank you, William, for caring for Thorndell in my stead,” said Alexander, lifting his glass in Darcy’s direction. “It is a bother, though I know I must attend to it sooner or later. There is a good steward at Thorndell, however, so I do not know why I should have to concern myself with every detail.”
“If you concerned yourself with any detail, I would be obliged,” said Darcy. That he did not snap it in frustration Darcy thought was a display of his restraint, though his father gave him a look suggesting he should remain silent.
“Managing an estate is not a trivial matter, Alexander,” said Mr. Darcy. “A man employs a good steward to relieve the burden of managing every little detail—no one is asking you to concern yourself with matters better left to the purview of a steward.
“However, in order for the enterprise to continue to operate as it should, the master’s input is required for matters of larger significance. Your brother has been managing the estate since his majority, but the time has now come that you must take the burden on yourself.”
Though Darcy had often known his brother to make a flippant response on such occasions, he toyed with his glass while he considered his response. After a moment of this, he drained it and set it on the nearby table.
“I would not have you believe I am unwilling, Father,” said Alexander at length. Darcy knew that while he was not unwilling, he was not willing either. “It occurs to me to wonder why you raise this subject now.”
“There are several reasons,” replied Mr. Darcy without hesitation. “For one, you are now five and twenty and at the age when the frivolities of youth must give way to the responsibilities of being an adult.” When Alexander made to respond Mr. Darcy added: “It is not my thought to curtail your fun, my son; life is drudgery if we do not enjoy it. Sometimes, however, you have focused too much on your amusements. It is time for you to become a dependable man of responsibility.”
Such a harsh assessment was likely not what he had expected from his father, for Mr. Darcy had indulged him more often than not. Then again, Darcy knew his brother was not surprised, for their father had hinted his expectations for some time now, long before Alexander had departed for London.
“I suppose you are correct,” replied he at length.
“There are other reasons,” said Mr. Darcy. “For one, I would like William to take up more of Pemberley’s management, and for that, he must be free of the cares of managing Thorndell.”
Darcy might have expected his brother to state that many men managed more than one estate—including their father himself—but he refrained. Instead, he regarded Darcy for a few moments before speaking.
“Thorndell is but half the size of Pemberley.”
“Less,” replied Darcy. “With careful management, its yields can approach five thousand a year, but a prudent man would budget four thousand instead.”
“Have there been any issues of which I am not aware?”
“Nothing of major importance,” replied Darcy. “The tenants are cared for and all the buildings are sturdy. There was a bountiful harvest last autumn and the money from the rents has been added to your accounts, as I am certain you already know.”
“I do,” was Alexander’s reply. “The majority remains in the accounts, for I did not find myself in need of funds.”
Darcy, who had access to the accounts because of his management of the estate, knew this. It was one piece of evidence which had given him hope his brother was changing for the better, for in the past, while Alexander might not have gambled it all away, it would have been several hundred pounds less than it was.
“Then do you wish me to return to Thorndell at once?” asked Alexander, turning back to their father.
“Having just welcomed you back, I am not eager to give up your company again so soon,” replied Mr. Darcy. “I thought, rather, you could assist William in some of his duties at Pemberley. Though I have trained you as well as I am able, it has been some time since you took an active interest. Working with your brother will allow you to become accustomed to it again.”
It was an exaggeration—Darcy knew it and knew his brother and father did also. For all he was not without knowledge, Alexander had not taken any interest in estate matters in the past.
“And what of the other matter?” asked Alexander. “Shall my presence in the neighborhood not cause difficulties?”
“If it does, that is their problem,” said Mr. Darcy shortly. “What happened was an accident. There is little gossip any longer, and to the best of my knowledge, Mr. Gardiner is well and does not hold a grudge.”
“My return will provoke gossip,” Alexander pointed out.
“And it will die down soon.”
With a shrug, Alexander said: “Very well. I am at your disposal, Brother.”
There was a glib undertone in Alexander’s response Darcy could not like. But there seemed no reason to call him out on it. Instead, Darcy indicated his agreement and fell silent. The three men stayed in the study until early morning, speaking of that and other matters. How long estate business would hold Alexander’s attention he could not say. He feared it would not be long at all.
It was the very next day when his brother’s education began, and Darcy was at the same time optimistic and disheartened. There was something about the way Alexander went about his life which suggested a lack of seriousness, and it had always given him grief. Some of the conversations they exchanged gave him hope that this time would be different, but then Alexander would say or do something which contradicted his previous assurances, leaving Darcy exasperated.
As there was a tenant or two they needed to see, they left early that morning, though not as early as Darcy might have gone if he had been alone. Alexander was an excellent horseman, confident and easy in the saddle, his mount, which had languished in Pemberley’s stables since the previous year, eager to run. They allowed their steeds to run for some moments before slowing and walking them toward Mr. Hearn’s farm, located at some distance south from the house.
“You know,” said Alexander when they were again at ease, “the problem is that you are much more suited to the role of being the master of an estate than I am.”
Darcy turned a hard look on his brother. “In what way?” asked he, though in a tone which informed his brother he should take care of what he said. It was no surprise when Alexander did not heed the warning.
“Why, that I enjoy my life far too much to allow my mood to be ruined worrying over an estate.”
Alexander spoke in jest but Darcy knew his wo
rds contained a kernel of truth—or what Alexander considered to be the truth. While Darcy knew it was likely pointless, he could not but glare at his brother, and when Alexander saw it, he was quick to put out his hands and laugh.
“I know, Brother. But you must own that it is correct. I do not intend for you to manage my estate forever, but you are much better suited to the task than I.”
“It is my opinion,” said Darcy, holding his glare on his brother, “that you are not incapable of doing what needs to be done. More than that, you do not take the trouble to apply yourself. If you did so, I believe you would discover you would do very well; moreover, you would also discover that the management of an estate, while it requires attention, is not an onerous task which occupies you from dawn until dusk, and has its own rewards.”
“Yes, Brother, I know. As I said, I am grateful for your assistance, and I know I could not have done nearly so well with my estate as I am sure you have. I am only confessing the truth.”
Deciding there was no reason to continue to belabor the matter, Darcy kicked his horse a little faster, pulling ahead and allowing Alexander to follow him. His brother’s chuckle of amusement followed him as he rode, but Darcy decided it was best to ignore him.
When they arrived at the tenant farm they stopped to speak with Mr. Hearn regarding the business of his plot of land. The area Mr. Hearn farmed was toward the southeast of the estate, a location which required some ability to adapt, for the man both had a plot of land he farmed, and a flock of sheep which grazed on the rockier terrain toward the borders. Their primary concern with Mr. Hearn was to discuss some impending repairs to the tenant cottage, a matter on which they quickly came to an agreement. Then the farmer brought up another issue of which Darcy had not been aware.
