The Road to Pemberley

by Marsha Altman

  “My heart is not lost,” I assure her, and then smile as my thoughts turn toward Mr. Beresford again. “Not yet.”

  She smiles. “Do you know what the worst part was about his running away with Lydia?”

  “You were unable to attend your sister’s wedding?”

  She laughs outright. “That was a blessing!” she says. “But no. The worst part was that my holiday was cut short and I was just starting to fall in love with your brother.” She rises and kisses my forehead as I laugh back at her. “Now, go to bed. It is late and I am sure you will have pleasant dreams tonight.”

  I rise and kiss her cheek. “Thank you, Lizzy.” She hugs me and wishes me good night, and I do the same. I shut her chamber door and pause in the hallway to sigh and smile to myself a little, and hear Fitzwilliam entering her chamber though the door to his own.

  “Did Georgiana come to discuss Mr. Beresford with you?” I hear him ask his wife.

  “Oh, yes,” she says. “Her head is quite full of him right now.”

  “I heard you talking about me, my love,” comes my brother’s strong voice, “and about my old friend.”

  “Yes?” says Elizabeth. “And do you always eavesdrop on ladies’ conversations?”

  “Absolutely. How else would I know what was going on in my own house?”

  “You are being silly.”

  There is a pause. “Madam,” I hear from my amused brother, “you are tipsy.”

  “Yes,” she replies, “and I mean to exploit it to the fullest.”

  I wait, but that is the last I hear from them. I slip away to dream about Mr. Beresford.

  Secrets in the Shade

  BY BILL FRIESEMA

  Bill Friesema lives just outside Chicago in Oak Park, Illinois, a few blocks from Ernest Hemingway’s birth home, where he has been a volunteer docent for over a decade. His interest in Jane Austen’s writings began after viewing the 1995 BBC production of Pride and Prejudice. Over the years, he has written a variety of short stories for his friends at Austen.com. When he is not engaged in his principal task of software development, Bill enjoys baking bread, playing chess, reading, watching classic movies, and running.

  “Secrets in the Shade” gives us a look into Darcy and Elizabeth’s marriage years down the line, reintroduces Wickham as a possible convert to the side of good, and gives the Darcys a mystery to unravel concerning family scandals from the past.

  Chapter 1—Intimation

  “William!” Elizabeth called out as she walked briskly down Pemberley’s great hall with James in tow. “William, it is useless to hide—we are determined to find you!”

  James giggled, ever so appreciative of his mother’s playfulness.

  “I am here in the study, my dear. Is anything the matter?”

  “No, nothing at all. I merely wished to inquire whether we should have the good fortune of your company as we take a turn about the grounds.”

  James broke away from his mother’s grip and ran toward the sound of his father’s voice. The loud patter of leather shoes on oak flooring gave Darcy ample warning to set aside pen and paper, and catch the young lad flying onto his lap.

  “Papa, you promised that we should all promenade when the weather turned fair, and it is ever so agreeable now.”

  “That I did, James, and so we shall; but I must first complete some correspondence that I have postponed as long as I could. Have no worry; I am nearly finished, and I shall overtake you and your beautiful mother within the half hour.” Darcy smiled as he brushed his son’s hair to the side and kissed his forehead. “Run along now; your mother is waiting by the door.”

  James was more surprised than disappointed, so accustomed had he become to his father’s ready attention. Indeed, to the surprise of the Darcy intimates, it was the father who had evolved into the more indulgent parent, always eager to amuse, praise, and forgive. The lad’s chief source of disciplined instruction was his mother’s cajoling voice, augmented only rarely by application of a firm hand.

  Lizzy collected the six-year-old, and they waved in unison before closing the door to the study. A bright afternoon sun had finally dispelled weeks of cold temperatures and dreary wet skies; it was the first truly pleasant day of spring. Elizabeth could by no means decline such an invitation to delight, but first she had to check on the well-being of her other child. She popped into the nursery and found Jenny, her lovely, dark-haired two-year-old, napping. Marion was in watchful attendance. Elizabeth smiled and quietly backed into the hall. Mrs. Reynolds helped outfit mother and son with light coats, and they set off in high spirits toward the shed in search of food for waterfowl.

  As they leisurely approached the pond, James looked thoughtfully into his mother’s face. She smiled at his innocent intensity.

  “What is it that you wish to ask me, James? I can practically read the question on your brow.”

  “I’m sure you cannot guess what I am thinking.”

  “Can I not? Oh, I am certain that you are marveling how in the world I could have been so fortunate as to have been blessed with a son so delightful as you!” Elizabeth teased.

  “No, Mama, you have it all wrong,” James scoffed. “I was just wondering, who is older—you or Papa? That is all.”

  Elizabeth grinned. “Why, James, do I suddenly look so old to you that you cannot tell? Ha! Your father must be wearing his years very happily, indeed, for he is eight full years older than I am. That is hardly the sort of question to ask of a woman when you wish to make a favorable impression! But what prompts your question, my dear?”

  The boy’s face brightened with relief. “Oh, I was just worried that you were older than Papa and so you would be the first to die. I am so happy that you will be with Jenny and me for many more years.”

  “Die, James? What makes you think of such a thing? Was it because Caesar died last winter?” She brushed his cheek with her hand and added softly, “Yes, I miss him very much, too—he was such a good dog and such a good friend.”

  “Yes, Mama, I have been thinking a lot about Caesar and how he couldn’t walk after he broke his leg and couldn’t get better.”

  Elizabeth smiled and hugged James. “No, I’m afraid Caesar was far too old, but he was our ever-faithful companion, and we will always have fond memories of our playtimes with him, won’t we?”

  After walking a little farther, she added. “Life is such a sweet mystery, James. Perhaps someday, when you grow to be much older, you will understand why beautiful creatures such as Caesar die, and you must promise that when you do, you will explain it all to me. But until then, you must not worry about your father and me, for we shall stay with you and your sister for a very, very long time.” She stroked his cheek as he hugged her waist.

  As they approached the bench by the water’s edge, they were welcomed by cacophonous quacks and honks as ducks and geese swam furiously toward them from the far side of the pond. James began flinging chunks of stale bread toward the ducks to prevent the geese from devouring more than their share. Soon, he knelt down and let the ducks eat directly out of his hand; their furious nibbles tickling his palm so much that he giggled uncontrollably. James was careful, though, to hold his head away, having learned his lesson well the previous autumn when a drake mistook his lower lip for a worm and nipped it hard enough to draw tears.

  Elizabeth leaned back on the bench, enjoying the tranquil scene. After half an hour, James had exhausted the supply of bread, and tried to hold the attention of the ducks and geese by throwing twigs and stones into the water. They quickly caught onto the deception, however, and swam away. Soon, James found a supply of flat skipping stones and a new preoccupation.

  Elizabeth relaxed in the warm sunshine and closed her eyes for a few moments. The past seven years had been nearly ideal. Life at Pemberley was grand, and although she did enjoy its advantages—including the balls, the music, the solitude of the library, and the walks in the magnificent garden—such pleasures had no lasting hold on Elizabeth’s heart. Darcy had claime
d that for himself long ago. Yes, Darcy was a good man, a faithful and loving husband and father; but Elizabeth was relieved to have proven that he was not without fault. She would have found it nearly as impossible to live with an unblemished man as to live with dull Mr. Collins! On certain occasions, Darcy had proven himself human enough to suffer poor temper and insensitivity, so he was certainly human enough to complement her own failings. Their life together, although not always smooth, was at least rich with laughter about their own absurdity and with the pleasures of increased intimacy that accompanies reconciliation.

  Lizzy was lost in recollection when a sudden shadow broke her reverie. She opened her eyes, expecting to see that a cloud had intercepted the sunlight, only to be startled by a man’s shadow slowly approaching from behind.

  “Darcy, how naughty of you to give me such a fright! Whatever possessed you to sneak up on me?” But as Elizabeth rose and turned, the shock of recognition made her smile quickly vanish.

  Chapter 2—Intrusion

  The intruder was all meekness. “Mrs. Darcy, please forgive my sudden appearance. It was not my intention to cause surprise or unease—”

  However much the sudden appearance of the interloper perturbed Elizabeth, she quickly regained her composure.

  “Mr. Wickham!” she sharply interjected. “You are perhaps the last person I should have expected to encounter here! Whatever could have prompted you to appear, unannounced?”

  Wickham was taken aback more by her pointed delivery than by the justice of her sentiment. His hesitation suggested to Elizabeth the possibility that some tragic event had prompted his visit. Her tone softened.

  “Is all well with Lydia and the little ones? Is it on their account that you have come?”

  Wickham felt relieved that the conversation had taken a more conciliatory turn. “No, that is not the case; Lydia and the children are very well, I thank you. Mildred, Agnes, and Humphrey are growing up in quite a lively way, inventing fresh challenges daily for their mother’s patience, it seems. Lydia is unaware of my stopping at Pemberley, or else she would have sent her love; but I shall be delighted to pass along your kind greeting.”

  Wickham, wanting more time for Elizabeth’s temper to abate, bent down to address his nephew, who had walked over to investigate the disturbance. “And this must be James. You have changed much since you visited us three years ago. That was too long ago for you to remember me, I’ll wager. But you are quite the young man now, are you not, James, so fancily attired in your handsome coat and boots!”

  James retreated behind his mother’s dress. “Is that the man that Papa dislikes so fiercely, Mama?”

  Elizabeth could only smile at the child’s forthrightness. “James, perhaps it would be best if you were to go to the house now, as I need to talk to your uncle for a bit. I shall return to collect you soon; then we shall continue with our walk.”

  Resenting the interruption of his pleasure, James scowled as he picked up his cap, slapped it against his leg to shake off the dirt, and trudged back toward the house. After he had walked out of earshot, Elizabeth’s attention returned to the visitor.

  “Mr. Wickham, I am having great difficulty in accounting for your coming to see me without my sister’s knowledge. What is the urgency of the matter that prompted such a spontaneous action? What is so important that you could not give notice of your desire to call at Pemberley? And why did you seek me here by the pond, rather than call for me at the entrance of my home?”

  “I must ask your forgiveness once again. The matter that motivates me is of some delicacy. For that reason, I have not shared my concerns with Lydia, who—good woman though she is—has not been blessed with a large measure of discretion. I did not formally request a visit, for fear of rejection. The importance of the matter demanded my best effort, and I determined that the most likely chance of success lay with an unannounced call. I did arrive just now with the intention of knocking at your door and requesting a quick word with you alone, so as not to antagonize Mr. Darcy needlessly. But I saw you here on the grounds and decided to approach you here, where it is quite private.”

  “Mr. Wickham, after a ragged beginning, we have learned to be frank with each other; at the very least, you can have no doubt about my ability to be frank with you. If you have come to request additional financial assistance, I can give every assurance that Mr. Darcy will remain deaf to all such entreaties. Given the state of relations between you and my husband, that must surely come as no great shock. As you are doubtless aware, I have endeavored to help Lydia by periodically sending her money that I saved out of my household budget; but I cannot increase such assistance at this time.”

  “Sister, you are right about my past dealings with your husband, but you mistake the reason for my visit. Both Lydia and I are grateful for your kind assistance, but I do not come with an extended hand. I come rather to solicit your aid in presenting to Mr. Darcy a matter of importance to him, but one that he might be tempted to dismiss, given our strained relations.”

  Wickham produced an envelope from his coat pocket. “If you would perform the kindness to give this letter to Mr. Darcy, impress upon him the earnest manner in which I delivered it, and entreat his prompt response, I would be much obliged.”

  “How very mysterious you are, Mr. Wickham!” exclaimed Elizabeth, refusing to accept the letter. “In the current circumstance, I find it impossible to honor your request. I cannot in good conscience promote something that I know so little about. First, divulge the contents of the letter; then, I shall decide whether to abet your cause.”

  Elizabeth paused and then added, “You know me well enough to respect my discretion; surely, I have proved that to you more than once. You also certainly understand that Mr. Darcy and I never allow secrets to divide us. Your secret is safe with me.”

  “I wholeheartedly believe that to be true, and you must understand that I intend no disrespect to you. I can only say that the matter I wish to bring to your husband’s attention involves the late Mr. Darcy, and I have determined that, for the sake of courtesy, I must discuss the matter with your husband first.”

  “A secret concerning the late Mr. Darcy? Whatever can you mean? That is too vaporous an implication to provoke me; I am afraid that you must be more forthcoming.”

  “I am sorry that it is impossible for me to be substantive at this time, but you have my assurance that my information will be of the greatest interest to Mr. Darcy, as it directly concerns not only him but his sister, Georgiana. I am staying at the Lambton Inn for the next few days. Please emphasize to Mr. Darcy the importance of meeting me there this evening or the next.”

  “Involving both Darcy and Georgiana? Very well, Mr. Wickham. You have succeeded in sufficiently rousing my curiosity, and I shall deliver your letter. I give you fair warning, however, that Mr. Darcy is not likely to grant the meeting you so desperately seek.”

  Wickham smiled with perverse confidence as he bowed to her, gave her the letter, and kissed her hand. Elizabeth returned only a weak smile. Before she began walking back to the house, she watched him retreat to fetch his horse, jump onto the saddle in one fluid motion, and trot off toward Lambton.

  Chapter 3—Wickham’s Letter

  Elizabeth could well believe that Wickham would rather not meet her husband at Pemberley. In the neutral setting of the Lambton Inn, Wickham’s inferior rank and character would not appear at such a stark disadvantage. He must have carefully thought out the chances and consequences of his scheme.

  She entered her home and found an agitated Darcy preparing to leave in search of her. James and Jenny were running after him in the hall.

  “Oh, there you are, Lizzy,” said her husband. “James told me of the stranger. Did Wickham really dare show his face here?”

  “Yes, it was rather a shock to encounter him. He has just departed for Lambton. Excuse me for a moment.”

  Elizabeth took the children over to the housekeeper. “Mrs. Reynolds, I understand that Mrs. Pearce is making mar
zipan in the kitchen. I’m sure James would like to shape some animal figures, and maybe he can teach Jenny how to do it, too. Does that sound agreeable, children?”

  “Oh yes, Mama,” cried James. “I want to make another hog’s face, only better than last week’s.” He grabbed Jenny’s hand and led her down the hall. The parents then moved to the privacy of the study.

  Darcy looked worried. “What the devil did that scoundrel come round here for? It can only be to our detriment.”

  “I share the same fears and expressed them plainly to Wickham,” replied Elizabeth. “He put me off, however, requesting only that I give you this letter and strongly urge you to respond to it.”

  Darcy carefully inspected the envelope. “I suspect that such poison ought not to be self-administered. I have a mind to toss it into the fire, unopened. Said he anything about its contents?”

  “Only that it pertained to some hidden dealings of your late father, but his demeanor clearly implied some unsavory business.”

  “So Wickham is attempting to use my father’s good name in his design? It is beyond belief that any human being could seek to malign a man who was the source of his prosperity and happiness! My father attended to Wickham’s every need, excessively so, and this is how he honors my father’s memory?”