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

by Rose Fairbanks

  “Perhaps I will tell you if we dance,” she said before he could decide what to say.

  “I am not dancing tonight.”

  “You cannot claim to be unacquainted with the guests tonight,” she teased.

  Darcy fought a flush to his cheeks. “I fear my valet is far too talented in finding accurate costuming. I require my cloak to be held in this position. Movement would be…catastrophic.”

  Elizabeth looked him up and down, and he felt himself stand up straighter under her inspection. A blush overspread her face, and her voice seemed raspier than usual, but she addressed the problem at hand.

  “Could you find a belt? Colonel Fitzwilliam does not need one over his tunic.”

  “How will that help?”

  “Find a servant and ask for scissors. Trim the cloak so there are three sections, and your arms have openings. Next, trim the hem to the desired length and cinch everything under the belt.”

  “I think that might work,” Darcy shook his head in disbelief. “How is it you found a solution when my valet could not?”

  “Pardon me for saying so, but it happens that I might be more familiar with garments of this length than your valet. I dare say he has never had to alter a gown.”

  Darcy chuckled. “Indeed not. I should have gone to Georgiana’s maid!”

  “Perhaps so,” Elizabeth smiled. “Will you ask for my secret again?”

  “I will ask you to dance,” Darcy promised.

  “I am waiting,” she teased.

  Darcy grasped her hand with his free one, and the smile dropped from her lips as she lightly gasped. Her eyes flew to his. “My dear Miss Elizabeth, may I have the honour of a dance?”

  Aeons ago he had asked for a set at another friend’s ball. He had approached her sure of her answer. Despite her teasing, nervousness filled him. The last time they danced, she had been surprised and seemed to answer reluctantly.

  “I insist,” she beamed and held out her card.

  Marshall had planned for the final dance of the evening to be a waltz. His name was scrawled on the spot on Elizabeth’s card, but the dance just before was available. Darcy took it, knowing he would not be able to watch her in another man’s arms but he could fantasise about the night ending with their dance. Richard could deliver Georgiana home. Just after Darcy finished, the musicians began to play. Marshall arrived at Darcy’s side to collect Elizabeth for their first dance. As he took her to the dance floor, she glanced over her shoulder to look at Darcy. For a moment, Darcy thought he saw regret in her eyes.

  While couples took to the dance floor, Darcy sought out his cousin. He found Richard dancing with Georgiana. Darcy waited for their set to finish and Lady Aurora approached him.

  “You never told me about your cousin,” her eyes followed Richard.

  “I had thought you knew him. You know his older brother, Arlington.”

  Lady Aurora huffed. “My father knows your uncle. I have been introduced to Lord Arlington, but it does not mean I know him.” Her gaze softened. “Colonel Fitzwilliam was not in attendance the few times I have conversed with his brother.”

  “He is not often one for the London set. He attends but few events.”

  “Is that by choice or necessity?”

  “Both, I believe. He has been to the Continent twice and overworked when in the country. As such, he prefers to find enjoyment on his own terms.”

  Lady Aurora’s brows rose to her hairline. “Meaning?”

  Darcy choked on his breath as he realised how his words must sound to the lady. “Pardon me, that is not what I wished to convey. He is an outstanding gentleman and treats ladies justly—although given to flirtation.”

  “Brilliant,” she breathed.

  Darcy scrutinised her. He had not even finished his explanation, but she appeared fixated on Richard. Mere weeks ago, she seemed ready to jump at being the next Mrs. Darcy. If Darcy had ever valued Aurora’s romantic attachment, his pride might smart at losing her to his cousin. As it happened, he could only wish Richard luck. The lady had a way of getting what she wanted and cajoling people into things against their will. If Richard flirted too much with her, he would likely find himself at the altar.

  Finally, Richard and Georgiana’s dance was over. Before Aurora could launch her claws into Richard, Darcy pulled him aside. “I need to borrow your belt.”

  “What?” Richard asked confused. “Why on earth do you need my belt?”

  Darcy explained his predicament.

  “It will ruin the effect of my costume but very well.”

  Darcy and Richard moved to the gentleman’s retiring room. Seeing they were the only ones present, Richard pestered Darcy with talking on the subject he most wanted to avoid.

  “I cannot believe you have sat back and allowed your rival to claim her.”

  “I do not understand what you mean,” Darcy said frowning in the mirror as he tugged on the cloak. This idea had been ridiculous. Just another example of him missing the ways society functioned.

  “Elizabeth. The woman you love.” Richard said firmly. “Do not quit the field, fight for what you want!”

  Darcy shook his head. “She made her choice. Even before meeting Marshall, I was not her choice.”

  “Lady Aurora would make a fine wife for you,” Richard said while giving him a sideways glance. “From the right sort of family who could do wonders for you if you wished to enter politics—maybe a peerage. Her dowry is likely even more substantial than Georgie’s.”

  “I have no requirements for those things,” Darcy tugged more. He hated everything about this. The costume, the crowds, the small talk, discussion of Elizabeth and courtship, being in Marshall’s home, seeing him dance with Elizabeth…

  “Yes…well, some of us do,” Richard, thankfully, interrupted Darcy’s thoughts.

  “If you are sniffing around to find if I have intentions toward her, I do not. I’ll not take Lady Aurora or anyone else as a wife.”

  “You cannot mean that,” Richard stared dumbfounded.

  “I do. I have a wife in my heart. It will have to be enough.”

  “But—but—but the estate! The Darcy legacy!” Richard dropped his voice. “Everything you ever feared you were not qualified for might prove true. Would you really risk failing your duties?”

  Darcy shrugged. “I have no duty to marry and have an heir. Georgiana’s descendants can carry on the estate. My responsibilities are only to keep the estate profitable during my lifetime.” A thought struck him. “In fact, I could adopt a child and name an heir of my choosing. Nothing in Father’s will said it had to stay in the bloodline.” Darcy and Richard’s eyes met both knowing the unsaid words. It had already been left to non-Darcy blood.

  Richard shook his head in disbelief, and then his eyes alighted on the clock in the room. “We should re-join the dance and get you some refreshment. I fear the late hour and lack of food have addled your senses.”

  Darcy happily followed his cousin out where there could be no more discussions on marriage and heirs. Georgiana approached him for a dance, and he smiled in thinking she was not too embarrassed to dance with her brother again. Again, more would-be suitors seemed to circle around her. Darcy noted when she was not with him or Richard, Elizabeth joined her. The other ladies often spoke with her, but Elizabeth practically stood sentry. Darcy had to squash the urge to bark at all the gentlemen around his sister and keep her a child forever. However, he needed to prove to them both that he could trust her, that she could behave well and earn the freedoms other young ladies her age enjoyed. Still, he was thankful for Elizabeth and her caring nature. He had no doubt that she would have always been an excellent friend to Georgiana but seeing more proof that she had read his letter and took his sister’s wounded heart under her wing, filled him with pride. She had every reason to burn his message, to rebuke him at every turn, to even announce the truth of his birth. Instead, she forgave him for his proposal—not just his mode but the fact that he approached her without regard to h
er feelings. She went out of her way to establish a friendship with him, exerting herself at the beginning when things had been awkward. What other lady could be so forgiving and generous? Richard might hint or lecture that Darcy ought to aim higher, but he had lived at Pemberley without a woman’s touch for twenty years. Darcy understood what both he and his estate needed, and it had naught to do with pounds in a bank.

  Throughout the rest of the evening, Darcy watched as Elizabeth danced with other men. He was also acutely aware he was not the only one observing her. Marshall had claimed her, returning to her side frequently between sets, always searching for her over the sea of guests. One final dance, Darcy told himself.

  “It is time for our set, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy smiled as he held out his arm to lead her away from Marshall.

  Elizabeth’s smile met her eyes as she placed her hand on his arm. Instantly, everything in the world seemed to slip into place. If Elizabeth never married him, he would still wish to know her, to be her friend, to have this dance. He had hoped for a future for them, but the future could change. And while it was not what would make him happiest, it would be enough.

  “Come, Mr. Darcy, we must have some conversation,” Elizabeth said and arched a brow, reminding Darcy of their dance at Netherfield.

  “As always, I will say anything that you wish.” He winked, acknowledging that he understood her game and as the dance separated them, he could hear Elizabeth’s laughter.

  “As it would look odd for us to be silent for half an hour,” Darcy said when they re-joined, “I will ask if you still find private balls more entertaining than public ones.”

  “Indeed, this has been my favourite private ball thus far.” She stifled a giggle as she looked at Darcy’s garment.

  “I must thank you for your suggestion on my attire,” heat crept up his neck, but he persisted.

  “It was nothing,” Elizabeth blushed. “I know how much you wished to be present for Georgiana.”

  “Indeed,” Darcy nodded, and the dance separated them again.

  “You leave for Derbyshire with my uncle tomorrow, do you not?” Elizabeth asked, an unrecognisable look in her eye when they returned to each other for the final time.

  “Yes. If all goes well, your aunt and cousins will be settled by Midsummer Day.”

  “I do not know if I will be able to arrive with them. I may be needed at Longbourn.”

  “I will do everything in my power to see that they are situated and pleased with their home.” Darcy would do it in any case but easing the lines of worry on Elizabeth’s face became a chief concern.

  “You are so good to them,” Elizabeth cast her eyes down. “To me, as well. You have been an unexpected and true friend.”

  The final chords played. As Darcy escorted Elizabeth back to Marshall’s side, he whispered in her ear. “Take care when walking and God bless you, Elizabeth.”

  He turned from her side, made his excuses to Georgiana and Richard, and left without a backward glance. Before him was a new future. What kind of master did he wish to be, knowing he would not have the usual legacy of begotten heirs? Time spent in Derbyshire and Pemberley would allow him to decide.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Darcy finished his tea and set it aside. Dusk was slipping over Pemberley, and he could not resist the temptation to walk in the gardens. The roses were blooming, and he could think of Elizabeth. He had spent the last several weeks making changes at Pemberley.

  George Darcy had left the estate rich in pounds but barren in love. He had doled out money every Boxing Day to his tenants, donated to the local church and school, but he did not mingle with those he believed beneath him. Mrs. Gardiner, for example, as a resident of the town and a shopkeeper’s daughter, had never seen the elder Mr. Darcy or been to Pemberley. However, he had a good reputation amongst the community and Darcy had attempted to copy that. For him, however, it had felt like a hollow shell when there was no real compassion or desire to help.

  Fitzwilliam Darcy, always as generous with money as his adopted father, now focused on genuinely giving back to the area. He had contacted other local gentleman and raised funds for school improvements. The nearby workhouse would lose most of its children. Copying the Foundling Hospital’s system, they would be given a grammar education and then placed in apprenticeships. For now, Darcy oversaw the placements, but soon, someone trustworthy would be hired to manage the feat. In the future, Darcy wished to extend the possibilities to the adults in his district of Pemberley.

  Darcy had expected more resistance from his solicitor, steward, and staff but they all eagerly followed his example. It seemed gentlemen in other counties had banded together to alleviate corn and bread scarcities—the unending war with Napoleon wreaking havoc on food supplies. All the while some farmers revolted against the new factories which took their winter employment. It was a double-edged sword. The factories meant cheaper goods, leaving more income left over to purchase food. However, it also meant many skilled artisans now without employment and low wages to the factory hands. Someone other than Darcy would have to sort it all out. He had directed his attention to different situations.

  The sun had all but disappeared when Darcy returned to the house and looked through the evening mail. Georgiana wrote often and requested his return to London. He would wait until next year. Georgiana would be presented at court, and then he would be her chaperone until she married. Although, he had no intention of ever pressuring her into matrimony . She could reside with him forever. If she did, one day, marry, then Darcy would have more time at Pemberley and would gladly leave the trappings of London behind.

  Richard seldom wrote. Darcy attempted to read between the lines. His cousin was undoubtedly involved in a flirtation with Lady Aurora, but if it were a legitimate courtship with the intention to marry, he was less confident. Knowing Richard, neither was he. Bingley had not written at all—which was certainly not out of the ordinary. No one mentioned Elizabeth—even Georgiana, who he had explained nothing to—and so Darcy assumed she was to marry Marshall and they were kind to avoid mentioning it. Although he received the London papers, he refrained from perusing the notices and threw himself into work.

  At the bottom of his mail stack was a letter Darcy had been dreading. It was in Mr. Gardiner’s hand. The time of his possession of the estate he chose was rapidly approaching. Undoubtedly, the note contained information regarding the transaction and determining dates. The Gardiners would be staying at Pemberley while the servants set up the house.

  Frowning at his cowardice, Darcy picked up his letter opener and unfolded the paper. Yes, Mr. Gardiner confirmed the dates of his arrival. He asked if his niece and her betrothed would be welcome to come as well but did not name them. Darcy’s hand shook, and he struggled to continue reading. He had never expected to see Elizabeth at Pemberley. The thought of seeing her married or courting another man and residing in his house filled his heart with lead. He rubbed at the ache in his chest.

  “When will I put you behind me?” Darcy muttered aloud. He always knew he would love her forever. However, he did not expect to continue to feel such visceral pain. On the other hand, it took him twenty years to overcome separation from his mother. It had only been just over two months since he proposed to Elizabeth.

  The candles had burned low in his study before Darcy pulled out writing supplies to reply to Mr. Gardiner. The servants had alerted him to dinner and had brought in a tray when he claimed to be too busy to leave. He had not touched it. While alone at Pemberley, he never bothered with a real supper. Tea and a light repast in the study was enough for him. The clock struck ten and Darcy knew a maid would arrive soon. Mrs. Reynolds would cluck at him in the morning for wasting the poor cook’s time and talent.

  Once he believed he could write in legible hand and with a semblance of a calm mind, he answered Gardiner’s questions and welcomed his niece and her betrothed to his home. Darcy had a request of his own. Georgiana’s birthday approached, and this year she requested t
o spend it at Pemberley. Richard could not leave Town and riding with the Gardiners would save Darcy a trip. Additionally, he could spend the coming weeks planning festivities for her. What could be better than her celebrating with her dearest friend, Elizabeth?

  Darcy had never dreaded a fortnight more. He spent the time advancing his plans for the school and work placement. Freddie and Tom wrote to him from London. Richard had taken to visiting when he could, partially filling in the hole Darcy left. He missed the boys but knew he needed the distance from Town. If they expressed interest, he would be more than happy to finance their education and apprenticeship in Lambton. However, he thought they would miss the bustle of the large city.

  Recalling what he said to Richard the night of Marshall’s ball, Darcy asked his solicitor to look into the legalities of adoption. He would not remove Georgiana’s stake in Pemberley yet. However, she had already been the victim of one fortune hunter. As heiress to an estate, she would be even more susceptible.

  In the mornings, Darcy tended to the improvement of his charitable legacy and business letters. In the afternoons, he rode over the fields with his steward and talked with tenants. Working from sun up until sun down had proved an efficient way to almost avoid recalling that Elizabeth would soon be under his roof but not his to claim. Almost, but not entirely. Never able to control his active imagination, she featured in his dreams. In the netherworld between reality and fiction, they lived and loved, and Darcy had never hated the rise of each morning’s sun more.

  *****

  The dreaded day arrived. Eerily like his nightmare, the sun rose as if there was no threat of Darcy’s heart shattering on this day. The only signs of darkness were his own attitude as he almost barked at every staff member he came across. His restless legs carried him to the rose garden.

  Life-like memories of his nightmare circled him. Elizabeth in his arms for their first real kiss under the arbour. The weight of her in them as he carried her dead body down the lane. The cold and imposing stone above her grave.

  “Let go,” he said to himself.