The Secrets of Pemberley: A Pride and Prejudice Variation (Jane Austen Reimaginings Book 9)

by Rose Fairbanks

  “Ah. Lest the world wonder about two unattached people, you need someone else to escort Miss Darcy.”

  “Three…” Darcy mumbled under his breath. Marshall showed no signs of ceding the field.

  “Or we could increase the numbers. Caroline and Louisa should spend more time with Jane.”

  “Have you made it official?”

  “No,” Bingley laughed. “First, I think I need to grovel more and display my constancy. Secondly, if I propose, her mother will demand her home, and I envision the woman would not allow us a peaceful courtship.”

  “No,” Darcy shook his head. “Nor a peaceful marriage if you stay at Netherfield.”

  “Gardiner has the right idea, looking for a house near Pemberley.”

  Darcy shrugged. “I certainly like the area and admit the convenience of having friends nearby. When I am an old man, I will not need to stir far from my fire to have some company.”

  “You will surely have a wife and children by then.”

  “No,” Darcy said firmly. Elizabeth was the only one for him. Regardless of what Anne said, he could find no other. He could not merely force his heart to attach to another.

  “Darcy—” Bingley began but was interrupted by the arrival of the butler.

  “Mr. Marshall,” Lewis announced.

  “Splendid!” Marshall cried as he sat in Darcy’s study. “Bingley is here too. We can all go to Gracechurch Street together.”

  Bingley swung his eyes to Darcy. They had not finished their plans on how he would limit his calls. “I regret I have other plans.”

  “Oh, really?” Marshall and Bingley asked in unison.

  “Yes, I have been on the board for the Foundling Hospital for some years but rarely visit. I have determined to remedy that.”

  “The Foundling Hospital?” Marshall asked in obvious doubt. “Since when do you care about orphans or the unwanted?”

  “Do you not think it a worthy cause?”

  “Undoubtedly,” Marshall tapped the arms to his chair. “However, it is the stuff that old, stuffy men support. If you do not want to go with us, you are better to go to your club or find some other cause. Any number of charities might be better.”

  “Better for who?” Darcy asked. “I can think of few needier than helpless newborns.”

  “Darcy,” Marshall said slowly as he approached Darcy who still sat behind his desk. “Do you have a guilty conscience?”

  “No.” He was affronted at the mere suggestion.

  “I meant no insult,” Marshall explained. “The man I knew you to be a few years ago would have no need to go to the Hospital, but mistakes happen.”

  “That part of my character is unchanged.”

  “Good,” Marshall said. “However, you also would have had no interest in it.”

  Darcy affected a shrug. “I was younger and new to my responsibilities. I have more time and seek to return some of my energy, not just my money, to the innocent and marginalised.”

  “When put that way, you make it impossible for us to remain behind.”

  Bingley’s face fell into a noticeable frown. “I have to make calls with Caroline later. If I go with Darcy, I will have no time to see Miss Bennet.”

  “Go,” Darcy said. “The Hospital will be there should you wish to come another time. You too, Marshall.”

  Marshall gave Darcy a curious look. “If you are certain? Your company will be missed and not just by Bingley and me.”

  “I will go another time with Georgiana,” Darcy busied himself with arranging papers. He did not like Marshall’s probing or hinting.

  “Well, let’s not leave the lovely ladies to wait!” Marshall grinned at Bingley.

  Darcy bade them farewell and then prepared to leave. His words were only partially impulsive. He had given the idea consideration and was about to propose it to Bingley when Marshall arrived. Given what might have happened to him if George Darcy had not allowed him to remain with his mother, he very well could have ended up in the Hospital. Darcy knew enough that merely having physical needs met did not fulfil a child. His money could never replace his time at such a place.

  *****

  Arriving at the Foundling Hospital, Darcy was greeted by the administrator and taken to his study.

  “Frankly,” Mr. Evans said, “I am surprised to see you here, Mr. Darcy. We do not often get gentleman volunteers.”

  Darcy stiffened. Had he misunderstood some social cue again? “I admit I may not have much to offer the very young children but perhaps the older boys…”

  “Boys over fourteen are apprenticed out. Should you desire one for your staff, we may arrange it.”

  “Certainly,” Darcy nodded. “I can speak with my housekeepers, and my estates are large enough that upon completion I can find a position for them.” He cleared his throat. “However, I came under the impression I could offer friendship.”

  Mr. Evans sat back in his chair, confusion crossing his face. “You wish to be friends with the foundlings?”

  “Surely there is something I can do while showing them a positive example—something where I have no authority over them as a master or teacher would.”

  Mr. Evans stroked his chin. “They have teachers and tutors. They do have free time to play after their chores here.”

  Darcy had rarely had boys to play with at that age. George Wickham had been his only friend at Pemberley. “I believe I can handle that. Are there some who do not join in the games?”

  “Yes, you will easily spot them. Some others are quite unruly. Follow me,” Mr. Evans stood and directed Darcy through several corridors to a back door where a large lawn was, and several groups of boys played. Evans left him to his own devices.

  Darcy scanned the grass. The oldest looking group of boys played cricket and the youngest set marbles and played with hoops. The third group of middling aged boys played football. Darcy had enjoyed the game at Eton and decided to approach. They played rougher than he ever had and before he met them, fisticuffs broke out.

  A small lad stood toe to toe with a boy who towered over him. Darcy could hear the shouts. The smaller one was easily the fastest on the field and had kicked the ball into the goal. The large boy had missed defending it but rather than accept it, thought he could intimidate the other child. Soon, fists replaced words. A few others joined in before Darcy could reach them. He pulled over five boys off the little one, curled in a ball at the bottom of the heap.

  “Oi! I had them!” He yelled at Darcy when he realised he had been rescued.

  Darcy looked at the boy who sported a few days old bruises and had new ones already turning purple. He likely would not be open to his eye soon. “Yes, you certainly had the upper hand.”

  “Don’t matter what it looked like,” he replied, fearless even though Darcy clearly looked like a social superior. “I’m clever. See?” He tapped the side of his head. “And I’m quick. Only one or two more needed to join in before a few would be trampled down and I could crawl out. Freddie wouldn’t have noticed I got away as long as his fist smashed someone.”

  Darcy looked over his shoulder at the giant boy, glowering at the one he talked with. “Is that Freddie?”

  The boy nodded. “And I’m Tom. Who you?”

  Darcy fervently hoped the other boys had better manners, or they would never find successful employment. However, as they had resorted to a fight for entertainment’s sake, he thought it unlikely. Darcy turned to speak to all the assembled boys. “I am Mr. Darcy. Mr. Evans sent me to enforce structure to your game. There are rules to play by.”

  “Who needs rules?” one shouted.

  “I ain’t listening to you!” another called from the back.

  “Either you listen to me, or you lose your privilege to play,” Darcy said firmly. It was a bluff, he had no real authority over that, although he suspected the administrator would do anything he asked.

  Tom looked Darcy over then shrugged. “You can try, but you won’t tame us.” Several cheered at his words.r />
  Freddie stepped forward and folded his arms over his chest. “Stuff it, Tom. I don’t sit all day in Old Oak Tree’s class to not get play time. We’re listening.”

  Tom lunged forward, but Darcy caught him by the collar. Ignoring the laughter and cries for a fight, Darcy began instructing the children on the basics of the game. If they had neglected to use the rules or had never learned, Darcy remained unsure. Nevertheless, a fight broke out before too long. As Darcy pulled Freddie off Tom, a fist missed its target and slammed into his eye. For such young boys, they really had quite a bit of strength. Darcy knew he would be sporting a black eye and sore muscles on the morrow.

  Enforcing strict adherence to the rules, Darcy sent the boys to their rooms and with instructions to double their chores. The others behaved well after seeing the repercussions and even a few straggling, shy children joined in the game once it was no longer chaos. After about two hours, Darcy challenged a few to one on one matches against him. The children cheered each other on, and a few genuinely did best him. When he slipped in mud defending his goal they broke out in peals of laughter. Darcy laughed as well, realising it was the first time in his life he had ever laughed at himself and relishing in the lightness he felt on the occasion.

  Returning to his comfortable house with a grin on his face, Darcy had to admit it was the first time he had fun in many, many years. He could not wait to do it again and again.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The next morning, Darcy was at work in his study when he heard the doorbell followed by the excited chatter of ladies and Georgiana’s squeal of joy. One voice rose above the fray—Elizabeth. Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose as a deep boring sensation drilled into his head. He had not known she was to call today. He would have made plans to be out of the house.

  All hope of productivity vanished. If it were any other set of visitors, he would at least make an appearance. He did not wish to appear uncivil. Just when he determined to leave and go anywhere, if only there could be one place on Earth where he was free of thoughts of Elizabeth, the door rang again. This time, Bingley and Marshall entered his study. Neither even gave the pretence of coming to visit him.

  “I believe Jane is here,” Bingley asked more than said.

  “My sister has guests. I did not confirm, but it did sound like Mrs. Gardiner and her nieces,” Darcy answered.

  “It is too fine a day to be inside,” Marshall said and waved at the shred of light shining through the April clouds. “We should invite them on a drive in the park.”

  Darcy raised his brows. “There is an uneven number of couples.”

  “Then we will walk,” Bingley suggested, borrowing Marshall’s excitement. “Jane and her sister often walk in Meryton.”

  “Georgiana is no great walker, and Mrs. Gardiner likely would not prefer it.”

  “You could drive with them in the coach,” Marshall suggested. He glanced at Darcy for the first time since entering and did a double take. “What the devil happened to your face?”

  Darcy chuckled. “The foundlings. They’re a bunch of scamps!” Bingley and Marshall laughed as Darcy told them how he spent yesterday. “As for the idea to enjoy the day in the park, may I suggest we ask the ladies instead of choosing for them?”

  “Excellent idea,” Marshall grinned and led the way.

  The other two men bounded into the sitting room, but Darcy’s breath caught when he saw Elizabeth sitting in a ray of sun. It highlighted her features and made her face glow. She hid a laugh as Bingley and Marshall animatedly invited them to walk or drive in the park, her eyes shining with the amusement. Although her expression did not change, her gaze flitted toward the door and collided with Darcy’s. For a fleeting instant, their eyes met, and Darcy felt the familiar tug to her as he always did when they glimpsed one another in that way. His feet propelled him into the room.

  “Oh my goodness!” Mrs. Gardiner exclaimed with a hand to her heart. “Mr. Darcy, whatever happened?”

  Darcy smiled and related his tale, with Marshall adding in more colourful description now and then. He was the better storyteller; it had always been that way, even if he had not been present.

  “Well, I applaud your service,” Mrs. Gardiner smiled. “I would not have expected such a hands-on approach and to hear how you rescued the smaller boy several times. What a fine father you will make!”

  Darcy flushed, and Marshall came to his aid. “It does not surprise me at all. We met in a very similar fashion.”

  “Really?” Mrs. Gardiner continued the conversation, but the eyes of everyone were upon Darcy and Marshall.

  “I was the small boy with a chip on my shoulder, going toe to toe with bullies a foot taller than me,” Marshall laughed. “I could barely do school work all first term because my eyes were too swollen.”

  “My goodness! Did the teachers put no end to this?” Mrs. Gardiner cried.

  “Boys are little savages,” Bingley laughed while the ladies exchanged looks of alarm.

  “One particular day, the set pummelling me was larger than usual—or some sort—I never really asked Darcy why he suddenly noticed me—but he pulled a livid young lordling off me.” Marshall looked at Darcy with a wistful smile. “Why did you notice me that day?”

  “You make it sound as though I walked by you—or others—dozens of times during a beating,” Darcy said while shaking his head. “The truth is, I spent that term in my room as much as possible. I studied and read my books. I had no notion such things occurred, and I could not abide watching it.”

  “That is just what I would have expected,” Elizabeth said in a tone of genuine praise.

  Darcy was too shocked to say anything in reply, but Marshall had never been speechless in his life. “I suppose everyone left you alone because you were a Darcy. Then we left University, and suddenly no one could leave him alone, so it all evened out.”

  Just before Darcy dropped his eyes, Elizabeth met his gaze again. A softness had entered them. Could she understand now how lonely he had been as a child? Then how guarded he had to be as an adult? Everyone he met desired something out of him. Even Bingley and Marshall had been conscious of who he was. Elizabeth was the only one who had never given a fig about it. Lord, he had been so sick of civility and deference, all the officious attention when he had met Elizabeth. Darcy had never met a woman who had a real brain in her head; they all cared for nothing but his opinion. Then he met Elizabeth and her lively mind burned like a thousand candles in the darkness of his existence.

  “Did you ladies decide what you would like to do about the park?” Bingley asked. “Should we leave for a moment to allow you to come to a consensus?”

  Georgiana frowned. “I think our meagre sunshine is gone.”

  In unison, they swung their heads to the window and saw rain beating down on the street below. Darcy particularly noted Elizabeth’s shoulders slump.

  Darcy thought quickly. “Why not make definite plans for the park for the next day of tolerable weather? Today, if you still wish to leave the house, we might tour a museum.”

  “Where shall we go?” Jane asked.

  “Weeks’ Mechanical,” Bingley suggested, and Jane blanched.

  Mrs. Gardiner diplomatically weighed in. “I think some of the displays may not be quite to our taste.”

  Darcy nodded. He had seen the giant mechanical tarantula and saw more than one lady actually swoon.

  “Art, then?” Marshall looked at the ladies.

  Georgiana rolled her eyes. “I am sick of looking at portraits. I’ve never been to the British Museum.”

  “We cannot enter today,” Marshall said. “They always make you request a later date.”

  “Not always,” Darcy said, biting back a smile. This was one of the few perks of being so well-known. Lest Elizabeth think he was proud or arrogant, he added, “I would be pleased to use my connection for the enjoyment of my friends.”

  “That would be delightful,” Elizabeth beamed. “It has been many years since I have
toured the place.”

  “Excellent,” Marshall clapped his hands and jumped out of his chair.

  Soon, they all packed into separate coaches and drove through the crowded streets, arriving nearly an hour later. The porter began to explain the policy of arranging a later date for touring but immediately changed his policy when Darcy mentioned his name. He invited the party of seven in.

  To a man of Darcy’s intellect, the Museum housed untold wonders and diversions. He earned his entry today both from frequent visits in his younger years, before he was burdened with the duties of a large estate, and also by donating some manuscripts from a long-ago relative.

  Although called the British Museum, much of the displayed collections came from Greece, Rome, and Egypt curiously mixed with British items. The corner stone of all things British, the original Magna Carta, stood on display in the manuscript room. Although damaged from a fire decades before, it continued to command awe and respect. Georgiana gasped at the frescos and marvelled at the vases and remains of ancient life. She had never before conceived history could come alive.

  As the group moved to other rooms, their amazement continued. The concept of fossilisation fascinated Darcy. Years and years of pressure impressed two objects together so much that when one disintegrated its image remained fixed in the other object. Elizabeth is etched in my heart like this, Darcy thought as he considered a fossilised leaf. Something so delicate and innocent had left an indelible and immovable mark on a hard, unyielding rock.

  Continuing through the animal rooms, Bingley and Marshall gawked at the strange creatures. Consulting his pocket watch and their cards, the officer rushed them through the coin room, and none of them appeared to care. Returning to the great hall, Elizabeth stopped before two black monuments covered in Egyptian hieroglyphics. The others moved to inspect a series of Greek sculptures. Without intention, Darcy walked to Elizabeth.

  “What does it say?” Elizabeth asked with a note of awe in her voice. She had not looked up, and yet it seemed she knew who was at her side.

  “That is the mystery of it all,” Darcy explained. “There is Greek here,” he pointed to the appropriate section, “while these others are Ancient Egyptian.”