Pemberley

by Kirsten Bij't Vuur

  I knew there had to be some interesting pieces, but now I feel a bit stupid to have let Nathan spend about a week scouring the local crafters' shops for a huge table, when we had several up there gathering dust.'

  'It's the way you always did things, my love, and besides, none of those was as handsome and as practical as the one you got them.'

  'But I didn't choose it myself, it was the only one available. If it had been less beautiful I would have bought it anyway. But I'll learn, I've already learned to appreciate old things, and I'll learn to look for them before I buy something new. Though I still prefer my own improvements over Georgie's mishmash.'

  'There is a time and a place for everything, and I think your sister's style of decorating is very appealing. But probably not for a drawing-room. Though I suspect Colonel Drummond may be living in precisely such at this very moment.'

  'I wonder whether his estimable lady has taken your advice to visit the glassworks and if so, whether she bought everything there.'

  'I wouldn't be surprised, they had so much of beauty in their home, and she so loves her ornaments. Did you ever hear from the Colonel, about the Drummond hunter?'

  'Actually, I expect a letter from him to be waiting for me here, I told him we'd be moving soon.'

  'Good, I cannot wait to hear about Cavort. Such a beautiful horse, though not at all like my new gelding. Shouldn't they look more or less alike in build if they are all hunters? Bucephalus looks a lot more like mine.'

  'Your horse and Bucephalus are both hunters, remember, and Cavort is in fact

  an army horse turned out too elegant, like Bernice, but I admit, more handsome. There is a lot of work to be done for the colonel and his two experts to create a consistent type, and your horse proves that is not always easy: add too much Arabian to improve the head and the stamina, and the size falls off, as well as the sturdiness. Cavort is the kind of horse that pleases most gentlemen, should he breed true to his own type with hunter mares his offspring will be coveted despite being in fact mongrels. But if some are throwbacks to his block-headed army horse ancestors, his value as a stud will soon diminish or vanish altogether. Then he'll just be a beautiful curiosity.

  Much depends on him, and on Bucephalus' ability to improve on the army horse mares without losing their stable characters. I know I'm not an expert, but I have high hopes for both stallions, and Mr Miller and Mr Smith's interest proves they have, too.'

  Enough about horses, Elizabeth wanted to hear what her beloved thought of that afternoon and evening's happenings.

  'How do you think things worked out with Simon and Nick?'

  'I suppose Simon is very pleased with things as they are now, but Fowler seems to still be struggling. It wouldn't surprise me if he felt much more at home in the common-room than in our midst. That is my honest observation, not some wish to be rid of him.'

  Fitzwilliam was so very endearing when he expected to be misunderstood.

  'Oh, I understand, and I agree, he would be happier with the other servants at this very moment. It's difficult to fit in with a wholly new set of people, especially when you've been taught to look up to those individuals as some kind of powerful, superior beings all your life. And then you find out they are just mere humans who worship their wives and have all kinds of other weaknesses, and still you are supposed to treat them with deference. I would also feel like fleeing back to what I knew, especially if that is Mrs Reynold's domain. She rules, but with a gentle hand.'

  He snuggled even closer, he didn't think adoring her was a weakness but most other men would, Elizabeth was sure.

  'And yet I think Nick will adapt, and faster than either of us expects. I've heard you use more inappropriate language than him the last two days, though I admit you had good reason, and there is hardly any trace of his London accent left. Do you suppose he will adopt the local manners of speech? Some people do that effortlessly.'

  'I suppose Fowler is one of those, but I don't think Anne will offer him the

  opportunity to be with the servants much, he will mostly hear civilised English spoken, and very likely a lot of French and German.'

  'I thought they looked endearing while choosing a large bed for Anne's room, but not too large so the maids wouldn't get suspicious.'

  'Our maids? I thought they weren't going to have any of our staff over? To be assured of their privacy?'

  'Really? So they are going to let Simon and Nick stoke fires, sweep ashes from the hearths, carry firewood, change washing water, remove laundry and take care of the chamberpots? I don't think so.'

  Even in the dark Elizabeth knew she'd surprised him, Fitzwilliam had not realised how many truly humble jobs the maids took care of every day. He'd be impressed that Elizabeth did, and he'd love her even more for it, maybe enough to forgive her for discussing Wickham with Earl Compton behind his back.

  'Point taken, my love, Manners and Anne will never suffer their lovers to be thus humiliated. Of course they'll not mind others doing it.'

  'Neither do we, my dear. But better make sure to have the maids in just once a day at the same time each day.'

  'First one of us to meet her can tell Mrs Reynolds. Was there anything in the attics you'd like for yourself?'

  'I didn't see much, I promised Simon I'd take care of the lamp, remember?

  Well, I did, even though I was curious. But I have everything I need right here. And we can go up there any time we like, can't we?'

  'We will have to at least once, just you and me, to find evidence of Victoria Wickham and my father.'

  'You're not planning on telling Georgiana?'

  'Do you think I should? Never mind, of course you do. Which means telling Fielding.'

  'And I confided in Frederick this one time, Fitzwilliam. He told me to tell you.'

  'The master of intrigue told you to come clear with me?'

  'He said plotting was his style, not mine, and warned me that keeping secrets would put a strain on our marriage. You're not angry I told him before I told you? Was in fact planning not to tell you at all until I had evidence?'

  The strong body beside her squeezed hers gently, and his voice was still calm.

  'When I almost bit off your head when you did tell me? No, my love, without

  Frederick's support you would probably not have had the raw courage needed to tell me something like that. And as it turned out, rightly so. I'm not proud of taking it out on you.'

  'You did not. Why do you gentleman types seem to think you are not allowed normal feelings? Why shouldn't you get angry, or sad, or disappointed? I'm your other half, I want to know what you are feeling, even if it's red-hot anger. Somehow I still feel responsible for chaining you to Wickham, Fitzwilliam.'

  And that was true. Though Elizabeth knew she was not responsible for Lydia's lack of restraint, had even pleaded with her father not to let her go to Brighton, she still felt bad whenever Fitzwilliam suffered from having to deal with Wickham, just because it was having married her that inexorably bound him to his worst enemy.

  'Dear, dear Elizabeth, love of my life.'

  His voice was like that of an angel, so calm and pure. 'You know how I feel about that, and nothing has changed: if I had told the world what a worthless piece of sh... rubbish our brother-in-law was, your father, or at least your sister's companions at the camp, would not have let your sister come anywhere close to him.'

  Elizabeth had long since concluded that her father hadn't cared at all what happened to Lydia, until he realised her elopement rubbed off on her eldest sisters. Had that not been the case, she was convinced he would just have put Lydia out of his mind and resumed life as before, leaving her to reap the consequences of her own foolish behaviour. But Elizabeth had also come to realise that Lydia's uselessness had been at least partially to blame on her father: he had never done anything to try to educate her or instil some morals or values in her. Nothing. A governess might have helped to at least teach her some religion and thus conserve her respectability. Fate had been v
ery kind to three of the Bennet girls, but painful as the realisation was, not thanks to their father. Still, she couldn't help but love him, he had always been a good father to her.

  'You know I tried to get papa to stop her from going, Lydia would have found a way to discredit herself in Brighton without Wickham's help. But it was of no use, he just didn't care.'

  'I know, my love, and still I rather of like him. My dear Elizabeth, I love you more than my life, do you honestly think I care how silly your relations are? I admit, I do not have your father's talent to laugh at their foolishness, but I'm

  pretty certain he has had years of practice. And I also admit they have annoyed me at times, but who cares? You have accepted my worse-than-silly relations without hesitation, you've been insulted time and again by aunt Catherine and yet you would have visited, and you were prepared to welcome Anne before we all found out she was actually superb company. We do not choose our relations, my love, and sometimes we can only bear with them.

  And mind you, if Wickham is indeed my half-brother by blood this whole discussion is futile anyway, for then it won't matter which of us saddled the other with him. Imagine aunt Catherine's face when I tell her. I seriously think it may kill her.'

  'Then she is a hypocrite, for she was seeing a commoner herself, and I guess a less talented one than Mrs Victoria Wickham. Wickham himself cannot help what his mother did. Of course it is my firmest believe that your aunt is a hypocrite.'

  'I can say very little in my family's defence, except that uncle Spencer adored his wife.'

  'And undoubtedly someone will object to that, too. I love you so much, and I'm so glad to be back at Pemberley with you.'

  'You have no idea how much it means to hear you say that, Elizabeth. Your love is worth more to me than all the riches in the world, and I'm glad to be at Pemberley with you, but I'd just as soon live anywhere else as long as I can be with you.'

  That was very sweet of him to say, but somehow she couldn't imagine Fitzwilliam working for a living, bowing to a superior. It was much better this way.

  It had been a lot of hard work for Nick and himself but it was worth it, Simon thought. To find himself in Frederick's arms without first having to sneak through the house past midnight was a luxury they'd never known. Tonight, they had each simply retired to their own rooms. Simon's contained a beautifully designed but simple-looking narrow bed, and after undressing there and tossing and turning a little between the sheets and blankets, he had used the inside door to enter Frederick's more opulent room. In a state of total undress, why not? No-one was going to see him.

  Frederick's bed was a large, ornately carved four poster made of some tropical hardwood, it was in horrific taste but Frederick had taken a fancy to the exotic style. Simon couldn't fault him for it, it was totally in character for

  what explorers' quarters were supposed to look like, a jumble of outrageous styles just thrown together, and while they hadn't gotten any further than a bed for everyone, they had seen enough quality pieces to furnish all their rooms to their liking. But the Darcy attics did prove they had been solid, sensible gentlemen for generations, whilst the general quality of the stored furniture was outstanding, this bed was the only truly exotic piece.

  It weighed a ton, and even taken to pieces Nick and Frederick, despite their formidable strength, had trouble lifting it. Simon had had to pitch in to steady the pieces, and even Mr Darcy, who did look more ravishing than ever sweating and heaving, had lifted his share. Despite having his meals in the common-room with Nick and Mr Darcy's staff, Simon had experienced a sense of belonging today that he had rarely felt before, even with Mr and Mrs Darcy present most of the time.

  And now, tired but with the satisfaction of a job well done, though his muscles would ache tomorrow, Simon had a less ravishing but much stronger and even more influential man holding him. A solid man, who liked to take charge, but who carefully hid an incredibly tender and vulnerable personality where no-one had been able to find it, until Simon had broken the hard shell of years of boarding school to discover the love of his life.

  'I will be stiff as a board tomorrow, Simon, so I'm guessing you will be at least as bad. And Nick, I've never seen anyone give so much as you two did today.'

  'It's because we have most to gain, my love. To be with the one we love I suppose we'd suffer a little muscle ache for a few days.'

  'You know Anne and I are just friends, and don't think I didn't see you ogling Darcy all worked up. I am the one who should be happiest with our new arrangements, no more sneaking about at night fully dressed, the most beautiful man of all, no exceptions, in my arms. Sometimes I wonder, my love, whether I'm good enough for you.'

  'Rubbish, Frederick, you know I love only you. I'm pretty certain that aching for someone I knew to be unavailable was my way of coming to terms with what I am. It's easier that way, you can experience the feelings without the danger of having to act on them.'

  Simon stroked the massive chest and arms with tenderness, the hard muscle and the profusion of hair all over them didn't mean the man inside that strong body couldn't be hurt, or lonely. As Simon had had his years of adversity, of struggling with his own nature and a hopeless but nonetheless very real and

  deep love, so had Frederick been very lonely and in denial of his aberrant feelings. He'd had to face the fact that he was going to Hell, and that his preferences would at the very least cost him his respectability, and very likely his fortune and even his freedom or his life if they ever came out. Despite Frederick's privileged position in life, Simon suspected he was more damaged by his past than Simon had been. He at least had had a happy youth with loving parents and siblings, Frederick had never known love from the moment he went to school at seven years of age. By the time he had been allowed to go home for the holidays, his mother had passed away, his father unable to give love to a child. An only child, he'd had no-one to turn to, he had grown up, but he had never been raised.

  'I've never seen you mentioned in the papers otherwise than as a catch, Frederick. You're good enough for anyone. And still I know I am good enough for you, despite being the wrong sex for the rest of the world, and despite being a commoner.'

  There was no answer besides being taken in a firm embrace, contrary to popular opinion Frederick was not a man of many words, not with the person he truly loved. He preferred to show his dedication physically, and his hands on Simon's slender figure, and his sweet kisses, said more than words ever could. Predictably, tenderness soon turned into passion, and the hardwood four poster became the scene of such kissing and fondling, licking and sucking, and finally so much heated ardour as it hadn't seen for at least a few decades, if ever.

  Sitting against the elaborately carved headboard, sweating and out of breath but still touching each other with small, gentle caresses, Simon knew his beloved had something on his liver. But they had time, this was the countryside, he'd get it out once he was ready. It took no more than a few moments before Frederick scraped his throat and asked, 'Was it very bad to be relegated to the common-room for your lunch? I was about to protest but I just couldn't, people would talk. I was proud how you managed to hide any feelings.'

  Dear Frederick, to worry about him when things were ever so much better than they had been before.

  'I didn't hide anything, my love, I have no problems eating with the staff. I like them, and I have been close to you so constantly the last few days, it's like a dream come true. Lugging furniture around, like that time in London you saved me from being crushed by the harpsichord. Though I'll just as soon

  let you and Nick handle all the really heavy stuff, man he is strong!'

  'I'm so relieved to hear that! And Nick, did he mind? I didn't think so.'

  'He was actually relieved to be back among the kind of people he knows. I've been very close to Mr Darcy for years, I'm used to switching between roles, so to speak. He is not, I think he didn't realise the difference between a Mr Blackwood, and Mr Darcy and you. The size of Pemberley over
whelmed him for some time, until he found out the staff here was much the same. I'm afraid Mrs Eliot did give him a hard time.'

  That got a reaction from Frederick, all right. He sat up straighter, and his hands stopped their caresses momentarily.

  'About what? He didn't even have the time to do anything wrong! And yet he felt better in the back of the house?'

  'She had heard things about him, that he was a philanderer, she was merely trying to protect her charges. He is very charming, you know, few maids could resist him. Can resist him, Dora is head over heels with him and I'm very certain he didn't encourage her at all. On the contrary, he doesn't date other staff and she knows it.'

  'He does look out for her. So he didn't mind? About the housekeeper?'

  'I got the same lecture from Mrs Reynolds, and we both thought it was sweet of them. We're your staff, we can do as pleases us as long as you approve.

  That, Nick understands all too well, which is why he was charm itself in the common-room.'

  'Do you think he is still afraid of me? It seemed that way. Nobody has ever been afraid of me, nobody I don't want to, that is.'

  'Nick is not afraid of you, my love, but you have to give him time. He likes you, but he wants to serve you, you're his master. I have the same thing with Mr Darcy and I've known him for years, chased him with a wet towel, laughed and joked with him while travelling. And yet he inspires such respect in me that I cannot call him Darcy unless I really force myself to.'

  'He asked you to be familiar?'

  Simon merely nodded, but it was dark so he added, 'He did.'

  'That is not a little thing, Simon. I'm impressed.'

  And strangely enough, Simon felt immensely pleased with that. Had he inadvertently been lying to his beloved, was he in doubt after all whether he was good enough for Frederick?

  Chapter 4

  Today, the others were going back to the attics to add some furniture to their rooms besides beds, and though Elizabeth loved to be with them, trying her new horse was even more exciting. She'd join the explorers when they were ready to hunt for decorations, hopefully turning up some boxes with old letters as well.