“Have it your way, Cousin. Look, there are two girls about our ages. I shall ask the one to dance and you shall ask the other.”
“Which one, the right or the left?” Darcy inquired, as the butterflies in his stomach threatened to bring him to his knees.
“It does not matter—come on.” Richard tugged on Darcy’s coat sleeve.
“I beg your pardon,” Richard said and bowed gallantly to the young ladies. “My name is Richard Fitzwilliam and this is my cousin, Fitzwilliam Darcy.” Richard looked over at his cousin, who was standing and staring at the girls with a slight frown. He reached over and poked Darcy on the shoulder and Darcy bowed, as rehearsed. The girls curtsied and batted their eyelashes in a way that would have made their mothers proud.
“My name is Mary Chaney, and this is my friend, Annabelle Martin.” Sweet Mary smiled at Richard, and Darcy let out a meager groan as Richard was overtaken by a rather comical grin.
“Will you do me the honor of dancing with me, Miss Mary?” Richard inquired.
Miss Chaney lowered her eyes and nodded her consent, much as a young lady ought. The young pair moved off in another direction, in polite conversation until the dance began. Darcy stood in front of Miss Annabelle Martin, alternating glances between her face and his own feet. Miss Martin was fair enough and not at all displeasing, but Darcy stammered and stuttered and his knees threatened to knock, nonetheless.
“Uh, if you are n-not otherwise engaged, will you do me the honor of a dance, Miss…Miss…”
“Martin,” she coached him.
“Miss Martin. Yes, of course.” Darcy wiped his sweaty palms on his coat.
“Yes, I thank you,” she spoke politely and took Master Darcy’s damp hand. Darcy was instantly grateful for the delicate gloves she wore.
The music began to play in the assembly hall, and the adults took their places along the line. The children formed two lines of their own, in imitation of their parents, and the dance began. Darcy moved as he had been taught by his mother and father; all the while praying to the Almighty that he would not miss a step or accidentally tread upon Miss Martin’s delicate foot.
To his own satisfaction, Darcy made it through the set with hardly a misfortune, and he was quite pleased with the performance. When he escorted Miss Martin away from the dance floor, he noticed his cousins and friends were still engaged with their young ladies. Darcy looked at Miss Martin, wondering how a boy began a conversation with a girl.
“Do you attend Eton, Master Darcy?” Miss Martin asked.
“Yes, my cousins and I are all home on holiday for the summer.”
Miss Martin nodded politely and awaited further conversation from young Master Darcy. The wheels turned in Darcy’s mind as he strained to think of things to say. At length, he simply asked Miss Martin if she cared to take a turn with him and she accepted.
They walked along the back veranda and down the stone steps into a small park. Darcy mustered his courage and took a good look at Miss Annabelle Martin as she strolled a pace or two in front of him. She was not disagreeable to him, and she possessed fair skin and pretty dark curls that bounced when she walked. He supposed those to be the qualities of a young lady that should attract a young man, and he was quite impressed with himself that he had actually taken notice.
“What do you do for amusement during the summer, Master Darcy?” she said as she stopped under an oak tree and turned to face him.
Darcy was caught off guard as his gaze met with Miss Martin’s large brown eyes. His eyes wandered down the bridge of her small nose, which was lightly freckled in a rather fine way. Her teeth were tolerable, he supposed, and she had a comforting smile.
“Um, well…I…I read, and we have gone riding. We have been lately at the old ruins near Bristol Cross. Sometimes we run into Lambton from Pemberley to play cricket on the green.”
“I live near the green. Perhaps I shall see you there soon?”
“Per-Perhaps,” Darcy stammered and blushed. Then the two stood for some time, with a rather lengthy pause between them.
Finally, Darcy managed to say, “I suppose we should be getting back to the assembly.”
Miss Martin nodded and then turned when she heard her mother calling her name from the veranda. She quickly looked back at the handsome young man in front of her and before Darcy knew it, Miss Martin had placed a tender kiss on his unsuspecting lips, and then run back to the assembly room.
Young Darcy could barely move a muscle as he contemplated what had just happened to him. It seemed as if his heart had stopped beating. Practically every ounce of color had drained from his face, and his mouth had gone dry.
“Fitzwilliam!” Richard called out from the veranda. “Wills, where are you?”
Darcy turned around at the sound of his name, and on seeing that it was his cousin, called out, “Here! Down here!”
Richard came bounding down to the park, wondering what his cousin was doing out alone in the moonlight.
“Richard!” Darcy exclaimed as he began to panic. “That girl, she…”
“Hold a moment, sir!”
“What, my dear?”
Elizabeth was perturbed, “You mean to tell me that this girl was so forward as to kiss you?”
“Yes, quite.”
“The little tart!” Elizabeth exclaimed under her breath. “Pray, who is she, Fitzwilliam? Does she still live in Lambton?”
Darcy chuckled as he realized Elizabeth’s discomfort at the disclosure of his first kiss. She was not one to exhibit jealousy as a general rule. However, her emotions seemed to be more acute these days.
“Elizabeth, I was a man of eight and twenty when we married,” Darcy playfully scolded her. “Did you expect me not to have been in the company of other women before we met?”
Elizabeth tried her best not to pout. “No, I cannot say that I did.”
“Besides, Miss Annabelle Martin has long since taken the name of Mrs. Taylor. She married a man from Devonshire, and I have not seen her for many years.” Darcy took Elizabeth’s hand and placed a loving kiss on it. “Rumor has it that she has had at least six children in as much as ten years.”
“I should not doubt it!” Elizabeth huffed and stiffly shifted her position in the chair.
Darcy glanced at Elizabeth, a sly grin on his face. “Perhaps you would wish me to stop for the evening, my dear?”
“Not at all!” she exclaimed. “That is, unless you are to inform me of any other young wenches who happened to make such advances on your person?”
“No, dear. I shall not tell you about any of the others,” Darcy pretended to study the toy sword, awaiting his wife’s reaction. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her pick up her embroidery and begin to busy her hands and her mind with something constructive.
“Pray, continue,” she said and sighed.
Chapter 3
There were outlaws, as ’tis well known,
And men of a noble blood;
And a many a time was their valour shown
In the forrest of merry Sherwood.
Upon a time it chanced so,
As Robin Hood would have it be,
They all three would a walking go,
Some pastimes for to see.4
As Richard and Darcy walked along the path toward the lake, they could hear Edward singing at the top of his voice. The boys stopped and hid behind a tree as they watched Edward cooling himself in Pemberley’s lake, quite by himself, happily raising his voice in song.
They looked at each other and grinned, for Edward was indeed a sorry singer. Richard looked around and spied Edward’s clothes atop a boulder beside another tree.
“Wills,” Richard said in a low voice and then snickered. “He is stark naked! Look, there are his clothes.”
Darcy began to giggle, but bit his lip for fear of Edward hearing them. “Do you think he will notice if his clothes turn up missing?”
“Not at all,” Richard said and stifled a laugh. “Why would he need clothes on such a warm day?”
/> The boys crawled over to the rock, pulled off Edward’s togs, and tucked them under their arms. As they hastily returned to the house, they could hear Edward’s merry melodies wafting on the breeze.
As Edward pushed the food around on his plate, Fitzwilliam and Richard sat quietly, attempting to keep their faces from showing their guilt, though Edward’s red cheeks made it very difficult.
“Well, Edward, I believe you have been taken in by one of the oldest tricks in the book.” The earl looked at his son with a stealthy grin upon his face. “It must have been one of the tenant children who took your clothes, for no son of mine would ever do anything so low.” He eyed his younger son and pursed his lips.
Glancing at his own father, young Darcy met a look of disapproval. He lowered his eyes to his plate to hide his mirth and quietly ate the meal before him. Darcy nearly choked on his food as the earl recounted how Edward had been forced to make his way to the stables, quite in the buff, where he bribed a stable hand for a horse blanket to wrap himself in so he would be able to make his way into the house.
Young Richard let out a snicker at the story. “Do you find this amusing, Richard?” his father barked.
Richard gathered his faculties and snapped to attention. “No, sir, not at all.”
“And you, Fitzwilliam?” Mr. Darcy inquired sternly of his own son. “You appear to be quite amused by your cousin’s misfortune.”
“No, sir, excepting that it does lend itself to a rather ridiculous picture,” Young Darcy’s grin turned into open laughter as Richard let out a brief guffaw.
“Mind your impertinence, young man,” Mr. Darcy reprimanded his son. “The table is no place for foolishness. Perhaps a night spent in your room would be appropriate. Take yourself there now, straightaway.”
“Yes, Father.” Darcy got up from the table with his head bowed and quickly slipped from the room.
“You too, Richard, and do not let me catch you laughing at your brother’s expense again,” the earl snapped.
“Yes, sir.” Richard followed his cousin’s example and obediently left the room.
The earl turned to his brother-in-law with a purposeful look, which was returned by a meaningful twitch of Mr. Darcy’s eyebrows before Edward could catch either gesture.
Side by side, Darcy and Richard headed for their rooms, grinning as they went. They both knew it would go better on them to take the easier punishment than be made to confess and suffer a worse one. Confinement to their rooms was not such a bad deal, as it also saved them from the wrath of Edward. They both had stowed a few good books in their rooms, for just such occasions.
It was Sunday and the morning was spent in church. This was torture for most boys, as it was expected that they would sit quietly and reflect for longer than they deemed tolerable. They had to listen to tedious sermons, droned on by vicars. The subject that week concerned the propriety of virtue.
Young Darcy sat next to his father in the family pew. He glanced around the church and happened to see Miss Annabelle Martin sitting across from him, with her parents. She gave him a shy smile as he caught her eye, and he looked back and smiled, too. Then he tried his best to pay attention to the sermon.
He thought perhaps he should feel some guilt at having compromised the girl, though as he contemplated it a while longer, he decided that the experience had not been wholly bad. In fact, he had rather enjoyed his first experience with the opposite sex, and besides, it had been she who had kissed him. He let his mind drift back to his present situation. He fidgeted in his seat as he thought of the battles to be waged and victories to be claimed down by the ruins.
Mr. Darcy looked down at his son and noticed his discontent. Though not unsympathetic to the discomfort of a hot, stuffy room, there was etiquette to be maintained. He reached down and put his hand on his son’s knee, implying to the boy to remain on his best behavior.
Young Darcy knew the meaning of the press of his father’s hand. His father was kind and loving, and not given to an ill temper, as were some he had seen. However, he had learned that it was not wise to test his father’s patience too severely. From as much of a desire to please his father as to avoid any further gesture of correction, Fitzwilliam shifted once more and thereafter tried to emulate his father’s still and composed posture.
Robin was a gentle boy,
And therewithal as bold;
To say he was his mother’s joy,
It were a phrase too cold.
His hair upon his thoughtful brow
Came smoothly clipped, and sleek,
But ran into a curl somehow
Beside his merrier cheek.5
When the family arrived home, Darcy went upstairs and knocked on his mother’s bedchamber door.
“Mama, may I come in?”
“Yes, Fitzwilliam. I would very much like to see you,” Lady Anne’s voice consoled him. His mother had taken to bed, for she had recently discovered she was with child, and she had begun to feel somewhat ill. The much-awaited news that a child was on the way had been a long time in coming for the Darcys, being as Fitzwilliam was already eleven. He really had no idea of the impact a baby would make on his life. He did not understand any of it, nor did he particularly care to.
“How do you feel, Mama?” he inquired.
“Well enough, under the circumstances. Are you and your cousins behaving yourselves? I do not wish to know that you are giving your father grief.”
Fitzwilliam smiled mischievously and said, “Fairly well, Mama.”
“You are not climbing trees and bashing one another with those sticks, are you?” his mother asked and raised her eyebrows questioningly.
“Mama, it is what boys do! If I am not allowed, there will be nothing left to do and the summer will be for naught!” Darcy protested.
“Fitzwilliam, I should not want any harm to come to you. You will surely hurt yourselves wielding those sticks and hanging like monkeys from the trees.”
Darcy watched his mother shift position in bed and close her eyes as a wave of illness overtook her. “Are you certain you are well, Mama?”
“Yes, dear, it is only a little discomfort. It is endurable, as it is a sign that the baby is well enough.”
“Your poor mama, Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth said and sighed. “I do know how she felt.” Elizabeth lowered her feet from the stool and sat forward to stretch as much as she was able.
“Shall we walk for a bit, my love?” Darcy stood up and gave her his hand.
“Around the room will be sufficient, for I would not wish you to forget to continue your story,” she said and smiled up at her husband.
“Somehow I think you will not let that happen.”
Elizabeth stood up. “Ooh…there,” she said. Grabbing Darcy’s hand, she placed it on her belly. “There, do you feel the baby?” she said and giggled.
Darcy did feel the baby, poking and jabbing at him. “Does that hurt, my love?” he asked, looking a little squeamish but smiling nonetheless.
Elizabeth shook her head, “It mostly tickles, although sometimes the tyke gets a good shot in. It is, however, a very reassuring feeling.”
Darcy’s smile faded. He leaned over and kissed Elizabeth tenderly, as he whispered, “My dearest.”
“What is the matter, Fitzwilliam?” she inquired.
Darcy shook his head. “Had I only known back then the things I know now, I would not have given my father grief. He must have been concerned about my mother, and about the baby. Instead of being allowed to attend to his obligations and worries, he had to contend with the antics of a spoiled boy.” Darcy heaved a sigh as he thought of his father, but his smile reappeared as he felt his own child move once more against his hand, reassuring him that everything was well.
Chapter 4
Despite the looming threat of parental chastisement, Darcy and Richard continued to pull pranks on Edward. His irritation upon discovering their chicanery was too amusing to resist. For Richard, it was a matter of payback for Edward being the olde
r brother. For Darcy, it was merely good sport.
Edward fancied himself a fearless hunter, for he had been on a hunt with his father and Mr. Darcy earlier that year. He delighted in tormenting the younger boys with the fact that he was of an age to be taken on such prestigious outings, while they were still infants, as he liked to call them. This caused great vexation for the younger boys.
During the summer months, bats had been known to hide in the attics of Pemberley house. That summer had been no different, and Mr. Darcy warned the children that if they saw any, they must tell him immediately, and never touch the creatures, for fear they would be bitten.
The younger boys delighted as Mr. Darcy told them this, especially when they saw Edward shiver in disgust at the thought of encountering such vermin. Later that night, when everyone was in bed, there was a knock on young Darcy’s bedchamber door. He scurried from his bed and opened the door, and Richard stealthily slipped into the room.
“Wills, did you see? Edward is afraid of the bats!”
“I do not blame him, Richard. I have seen one and the sight of them makes your skin crawl.” Darcy shook off the shiver that invaded his body.
Richard made a determined face. “Edward does not know that we fear them! I have an idea, but I need your help.”
“Oh no!” Darcy resolutely shook his head. “I am not capturing any bats!”
Richard folded his arms across his chest. “I did not know you were such a coward, Wills!”
“A coward, me?” Darcy was incredulous. “Surely you are making a joke.”
“Then you will help me?” Richard asked with glee.
Darcy nodded his head and then decided he would visit the library in the morning and restock his room with a few more good books. He had a feeling that when his father found out what they were up to, he would be spending more time in solitary.
The next morning, the boys were up early and stole out of the house before being missed. They ran down the lawn and stopped under a large pine tree, looking underneath for a pinecone that would be precisely the right size. Darcy picked up a perfect specimen and shoved it in the pocket of his coat.
The Road to Pemberley Page 40
