by Wells, Linda
“You need to go home to Pemberley. Your brother welcomes you, and I suspect that you will find an entirely different atmosphere when you arrive.”
“Why?”
“Well for one thing, you are not pregnant. There is nothing to hide any more. That burden lifted is enormous. In fact, I suspect that you will see Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth at last settling into … whatever their household will be for the remainder of their lives. It should be an exciting time for them. You are fortunate to have the opportunity to watch such a devoted couple starting out. Lessons that cannot be taught will be there before you to observe and remember, and take away with you when you go to London and see other examples.”
“You have met Mrs. Annesley. Do you like her?”
“Very much. She is a sincere woman who was led to believe that her husband was everything she imagined him to be. I think that her experience will lend itself well to you. She will spot charlatans.”
“I think that I am not as naive, either.”
“No, dear. Your eyes are open.”
“Shall I tell her the truth?”
“When you are comfortable with her, I think that you should. Then she will understand when you are not trying to be so strong, like you are now.” Susan leaned over and hugged her. “It is for the best, this separation. You are becoming attached, even though you rarely see her.”
“Samuel and I played with her while you were at the Kelly home.”
“You did?” Susan tilted her head. “How was he with a baby?”
“In awe of everything.” Georgiana laughed softly and kissed the little hand that was reaching up to touch her face.
“I think that he will be a wonderful father someday.” Susan said fondly while holding out her arms to take the baby.
“I can hear him protesting you marrying him off already.”
“So can I, but it will not stop me from keeping my eyes open.” Watching her niece looking at Hope, she said softly, “I will do the same for you.”
She touched Hope and held her hand. “Maybe someday. I may have lived as a married woman, but I am far from ready to be one. I have learned that lesson well.”
ELIZABETH FINISHED WRITING her sixth letter of the morning and bleary-eyed, sat up and straightened her back. “Oh my … I will never let my correspondence pile up like this again.” Stretching out her cramped hand, she counted the letters, Jane, her mother, Mary, Charlotte, Aunt Gardiner, Aunt Grace … “And that leaves Aunt Catherine. I need my wits about me for that one.” She picked up the letters and walked briskly from the drawing room where she had been enjoying the morning sunshine and down the stairs into the foyer.
From seemingly thin air, Evans appeared. “Are those ready to post, Mrs. Darcy?”
“Oh.” She looked at the letters and smiling, handed them over. “Thank you. I was going to leave them on Mr. Darcy’s desk.”
“I have already collected his letters, although I suspect there will be more before long.” Bowing his head, he went to the door where a salver lay, piled with envelopes.
Elizabeth marvelled at the stack. “And here I was complaining of six!” Turning away, she walked across the marble floor, taking her time to look up and admire the artwork that was on every surface. So many have contributed to this home. I wonder if Will and I will ever travel and bring something here for a future housekeeper to describe? She smiled and in her mind, she imitated Mrs. Reynolds’ voice as she gave a tour. She and Darcy had stood behind his study door with their ears pressed to the wood as they listened to her somewhat overwhelming enthusiasm for all things Darcy. Elizabeth had her hand to her mouth to keep from laughing and Darcy’s face was pink with embarrassment. I will have to ask her to modify that speech a bit, but I fear she is incapable of it.
With a wide smile on her face, she went to the study and peeked inside. Darcy was alone at his desk, immersed in a letter he was reading. A pen was spinning idly in his right hand. Elizabeth’s hand had been raised to knock, but she let it fall to her side, and instead, she leaned on the doorframe, her mischievous grin fading to a soft smile. Darcy cleared his throat and dipping his pen in the ink began jotting something down. A thought must have occurred to him, as he jumped to his feet and went to a shelf, pulling out a book to rapidly turn pages until nodding to himself, he replaced it and returned to his desk. Words seemed to flow from his pen. He was speaking softly to the paper, as if it was the person he was addressing. At last he sat back and biting his lip, he held up the sheet to read. Unconsciously, his hand waved. “Yes, yes. That is the way.” He said with satisfaction and setting it down, proceeded to cross things out before taking a fresh sheet to rewrite the letter.
Elizabeth was absolutely entranced watching him at work and remained perfectly still in the door’s shadow. She had seen him write many letters. She had seen him working, reading, lost in thought, but for some reason, it struck her differently this time. Confidence seemed to radiate from him. He folded the letter, and removing his signet ring, pressed the Darcy crest into the molten wax that he had dripped carefully over the sheet. He slipped the ring back on and for a moment, she saw him touch the golden band inscribed with their initials. The little smile lifted his lips and he drew a breath before focussing back on his desk and opening the next letter. The gesture of love was unexpected and instantly overwhelming.
Withdrawing quietly, she contained the emotion that welled up in her breast, and walked slowly through the house until she arrived at the ballroom and sank down upon the bench before the pianoforte. With her hands folded in her lap, she examined the memories that flooded her mind while studying the unrecognizable woman reflected in the mirrors that hung around the beautiful ballroom. In her mind, she heard music, but it was not the strains of a fine quartet, but the thump of the people of Meryton, dancing at the Assembly. She looked to the doorway and imagined the first time she saw the man who she would marry.
I was dressed, not in my finest gown, but it was pretty … She looked at the beautiful morning dress she wore and knew that this simple gown was ten times superior to how she was dressed for the Assembly. Her hair that night was worn up, but she had been dancing for nearly an hour before the Netherfield party arrived, and it was surely dishevelled by then. And in that crowded warm room, she certainly had a sheen to her skin. “I was tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt him.” She whispered. “And that was the honest truth. He may not have wished to dance, he might have had Georgiana on his mind, but one thing that Fitzwilliam Darcy always was then and now, is unfailingly honest. I was not dressed, nor appeared to be like any woman he had spent the summer meeting. He did not expect to fall in love with a girl like me. And there I was, so defensive, so rude to him at every turn …” She pressed her hands to her cheeks. The image of him working at his desk came to mind and she spoke fiercely to her reflection, “Never, ever, take this man’s love for granted.”
Darcy’s pen stopped in midair when the sound of the pianoforte drifted down the hallway. Smiling, he set it down in the tray and sat back with his eyes closed. It was Elizabeth’s familiar touch on the keys, improved from months of coaching from Georgiana, but still uniquely her own. He waited and his smile grew as she added her voice to the song. “There she is …” He laughed and thought of Lucas Lodge and her impertinent refusal to dance with him. “How self-protective she was then,” he said softly, “and how blind I was to it.” The love song ended and he listened, hoping for more, and it came. “Ahhhhh, Lizzy.”
Picking up his pen, he wrote a note, and then pulled the bell. Evans appeared and he directed him to take it to Mrs. Darcy. The butler bowed and set off towards the ballroom. By the smile in the master’s eyes, he suspected the contents of what he was carrying.
“Madam.” He bowed and walked to her. “From the master.”
Elizabeth waited for him to go and biting her lip, she opened the note.
With such beautiful music in the air I would beg the honour of your hand for a dance, but I know better, you wish to save yo
ur breath to swell your song, and I love hearing you again. Thank you.
“You dear man, how could you possibly know that I was thinking of Hertfordshire?”
“You were?” The deep voice echoed in the enormous empty room. Elizabeth started. He walked across the floor and stood by her side, gently caressing her throat. “I was reflecting on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.”
“What is this nonsense?” She blushed and leaned into his touch.
“It is not nonsense. Ask Miss Bingley when she visits. That is the very thing I said to her after you refused my offer to dance that night.”
Elizabeth’s mouth opened, “It was?”
Bending, he smiled into her eyes and softly kissed her. “It certainly was.” Caressing her face, he lifted her chin and kissed her again. “I must return to work.”
As he was turning away, she called, “What did you discover in the book?”
“What book?”
“The one that you consulted when you were writing your letter.”
“You were watching me?” His eyes smiled. “Why?”
Elizabeth stood and pushed him towards the door. “You are not the only one who appreciates a pair of fine eyes.”
Looking over his shoulder, he laughed as she pressed her hands upon his bottom to urge him out. “Was it my eyes you were appreciating?”
“They were a part of the display …” He came to a dead stop in the doorway and turned. “Will!”
With his hands firmly on either side of the doorframe he grinned. “What else did you like?”
“How vain are you?”
“Tell me.”
“You are very vain.”
“No, tell me what you liked? Something sent you running in here to sing me love songs. What did I do? Tell me so I may do it again. Surely my skills in consulting a ledger do not send your heart racing.” He leaned and kissed her nose. “Tell me.”
“No.”
“Tell me …” He whispered huskily.
Frustrated, she tried to push him again. “Will you please go to work?”
“Why?”
“Because the sooner you finish, the sooner I can tell you.”
“Now that I can accept.” Letting go of the door, he kissed her again. “Will you come and spy on me again?”
Elizabeth sighed. “I must write a letter to Aunt Catherine.”
“Oh dear, it has come to this has it?” Darcy hugged her. “Come and write it with me.”
Tapping her finger on his smile, she laughed. “Neither of us would accomplish anything then. We talk too much.”
“Nobody has ever accused me of that before. I think that I would simply stare too much.” He smiled and finally let go. “I suppose I should return to work as you say. Where will you be?”
“The library.”
Nodding, he stepped out into the hallway. “I shan’t be long. I will meet you there.”
Elizabeth watched him disappear before she turned and walked in the opposite direction. She entered the library and immediately her eyes were drawn to the bearskin rug before the fireplace.
“Stop that, Lizzy! You must not think of such things when you must address Lady Catherine! Use my wiles, indeed!” Determinedly she turned her back on the inviting spot and took a seat at the writing desk set before a window overlooking the garden. After considering and discarding many greetings in her mind, she at last decided on her approach.
15 June 1812
Pemberley
Dear Aunt Catherine,
Please forgive me if I do not address all of your concerns. Fitzwilliam and I were enjoying the morning out of doors when we were reading letters; and I am afraid that yours was caught up like a sail and floated away. My heart sunk as it disappeared.
How lovely it was to hear from you so soon upon our return to Pemberley. Scotland was stunning, and although we were there for nearly three months, I feel that we could spend a year and only begin to enjoy all of the beauty. We walked a great deal and Fitzwilliam taught me to ride. Of course, we originally planned to remain until August, but we both felt the pull to return to Pemberley and take up our duties at last, so here we are. I told Fitzwilliam that I felt like a new bride coming home, we have been here so little since we married. And of course, as much as we both enjoyed our trip, we know that our responsibilities lie here and neither of us have any desire to leave Pemberley again for a great while.
Like us, you must be rejoicing in the news that Richard has become engaged to Miss Sophie Kelly. She is a wonderful woman, and I know that he will be very happy with her. He was hesitant to propose so soon, as Gladney is largely empty. How very generous and kind Albert was to take some of Rosings’ excess funds to restore the viscount’s estate to its proper glory. Fitzwilliam considered it an excellent plan to help Richard along. After all, Albert is master of Rosings now, but his name is connected to Gladney, and it would be a black mark against his title to not restore the property. Fitzwilliam said that he is quite pleased with the strides his cousin has made since his marriage to Anne, and is positive that surely they were meant to be together all along.
I believe you mentioned something of a ring that you compared to Mrs. George Darcy’s? Fitzwilliam recalls that something similar to your description was misplaced some time ago. If this is indeed the same ring, he expresses great pleasure that it has found a home as a symbol of joy between your new reverend and his wife, rather than left unappreciated or locked away in a jewel box.
Thank you for all of your kind advice and concern, we appreciate it all. If only my mother had such a friend to help her as she adjusts to her new position as the dowager. You have made the transition so admirably.
We hope that you will make the journey to Matlock next month for Richard and Miss Kelly’s wedding, and look forward to seeing you then.
Your niece,
Elizabeth Darcy
“Have you finished?”
Elizabeth started. “I thought that you were working?”
Darcy laughed, “That was over an hour ago, love. I believe that I have managed three letters to your one.” Leaning over her shoulder, he read and pursed his lips together. “Of course, I was not matching wits with Aunt. Well done.”
She looked uncertainly down at her finished letter. “Do you think so? I thought that I could not outright ignore her demands and advice. I do not wish to antagonize her.”
“I think that she will be appeased. You must remember that you won her over, even if she never admits it to your face.” He picked up the letter and folded it. Elizabeth lit the stick of sealing wax and Darcy slipped off his ring to press into the red glob. “I noticed how you made mention of my opinion frequently.”
“I wanted her to know that we are a united front.” She looked up at him and received a kiss. He did not draw away. Instead he leaned in again, stroking her mouth lingeringly. Elizabeth felt a shiver travel down her spine as he caressed the back of her neck. Conversation from two maids passing the door woke her from the heady mood. “Will … “
“Hmm?” He murmured from the vicinity of her ear.
“The door …”
“I will go lock it. Please forgive my forgetfulness.” Darcy whispered before kissing her again.
“I … Let me take this to Evans to post …”
“Ring the bell.”
“Then he will come.” She smiled at the flicker of annoyance in his eyes. “Yes, he would delay you more.”
“Fine,” Standing upright, he moved away. “Abandon me.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Only for a moment.”
“I will have to take your word for that as I have no chronograph.” He reached to her breast. “I could borrow yours … Oh, look at this, you are not wearing it.”
“Will!” She batted his hand and giving him a backwards smile, she left the room.
Darcy crossed his arms and leaned his bottom on the desk. “A united front. How well that sounds.” Impatient for her retur
n, he searched for occupation in looking around the impressive room, and after glancing at the empty door, strolled down to one end. There he examined the delicate ancient texts that he rarely touched, then walked along until he came to the empty shelves waiting for his purchases. “And my son’s.” He said softly, touching the smooth wood. Georgiana’s safe delivery had effectively quashed his fears for Elizabeth carrying their children and now he eagerly looked forward to fatherhood. “So, one good thing came of this horror.” He smiled sadly. “No, two. There is Hope.”
The family Bible caught his eye and approaching the pedestal, he hesitated before opening the cover. “What shall we do about Hope?” His finger traced over Georgiana’s name and paused. “No. I am sorry, dear. George Wickham’s name will not be written upon these pages.” Moving his finger upwards, he rested it under his uncle’s name. The odd exchange with Wickham that day in the sheep shed came to mind. It was more than fear on Wickham’s side; he saw fear from his uncle, as well as fury.
Shaking the nagging thoughts from his head, he looked back down at the Bible. “I could write her name as their ward … after all, she will surely adopt the Darcy name when she comes of age …” Turning back the pages, he read the names of the children. He knew of bastards born into the family, and looked for their names. “Yes, they are recorded, but …” It was as he remembered, a small note was next to each, “Natural child of … No, I cannot do that. If Hope adopts our name when she is one and twenty, then yes, I shall add her name here, but until then …” He closed the book and passed his hand over the cover. “I am sorry, Hope.”
His good mood ruined, Darcy walked to the chairs set before the unlit fireplace and sinking down into the leather cushion, closed his eyes. Something jabbing at his thigh made him feel around and surprised, he pulled out a book stuffed between the cushion and the chair. Curiously, he opened it and nodded. “Grandmother’s journal, it has been here all of this time.” Biting his lip, he read again of her concerns for her younger son, his depression, his reaction to laudanum, his battles to please his father and his elder brother’s growing disdain. Darcy snapped the book shut angrily and jumped up to put it back on the shelf where it belonged. There he spotted the book of Darcy history, and taking it down he walked back to the chair and sat down. He slowly paged through, reading stories that he had not seen for years, certainly he had not opened this since his father died. As he read notes from generations of Darcy men, he began to relax again, and wondered what contribution he would make one day. Thoughtfully he turned the pages when a sealed envelope fell onto his lap.
