Pemberley

by Kirsten Bij't Vuur

  'With a husband and three sons almost grown I suppose the good lady knows how to handle a mere man, Mrs Reynolds. I wouldn't worry.'

  He knew exactly what kind of man Mrs Annesley was attracted to, and Fowler wasn't it. Her husband had provided her with enough brawn to last a lifetime, her life's experiences had taught her to seek company with those of her own disposition instead of the exact opposite. Mild and scholarly was her thing these days, a tendency towards the indolent no problem, she had energy for two herself. But of course he couldn't tell Mrs Reynolds that her friend had already made an excellent choice of partner to commit adultery with, and

  that Fowler would not be tempted by a lady half again his age. He had caught an even bigger fish in the brand-new Mrs Manners. Beautiful, intelligent, kind, and undoubtedly already with Prince George's sights set on her.

  'I suppose you're right, Mr Bennet, she wrote to warn me of Fowler's reputation but he's meek as a lamb and totally appropriate under any circumstance. Goodness knows Mrs Annesley's husband and sons have put her patience to the test at times, don't all male relatives?'

  'Not just the males, if you please, Mrs Reynolds. I have five daughters, and living in a household as only man amidst six females has had its challenges.

  We all have our moments of weakness I'm afraid.'

  'Sadly, I have no children of my own, but I saw Mr Darcy grow up, and neither he nor Miss Darcy ever gave me any vexation...'

  She left a little pause there, as if someone had given her plenty, and Mr Bennet instantly realised who.

  'They left that to Mr Wickham, my favourite son-in-law. I'm afraid he has little mischief left in him, Mrs Reynolds, these days he sets a shining example for his men in the Rifle Corps. He is an outstanding officer and very courageous, but I suppose only as long as he is kept very, very busy. Have you been keeping Fowler busy?'

  'His master does, and now you mention it, he makes himself useful wherever he can, I suppose he chooses to be busy himself. You think...?'

  'I think that's him right there, with Mrs Annesley, in perfect shape.'

  'Will you tell me about Mr Wickham one of these days, Mr Bennet? I do worry about him sometimes, he was a nice boy and maybe he didn't deserve what people said of him.'

  'It's Lieutenant Wickham now, you know, and I will tell you all I know. He writes sometimes, he doesn't have many people left to keep informed. But Mrs Reynolds, he was as bad as they said, your worry was not wasted on him.'

  'Thank you, sir. Shall I show you to your room now?'

  'Yes, please, and Mrs Annesley looks tired, she will be glad to have a place to rest a little.'

  She had been with Fowler, but not as Mrs Reynolds had implied. Her eyes were slightly reddened, and her calm was the calm after a storm, emotional fatigue. Better be very careful or she might break down right before Mrs Reynolds' eyes. He had made a mistake bringing her along, he'd meant to make her feel better but instead she was worse, and all he could do now was

  try to keep the damage contained. And if Darcy sent for her he'd accompany her, make certain the blame landed where it was due.

  'Grace, I was so sorry to hear about your husband! How was he when you left?'

  Mrs Reynolds and Mrs Annesley were that informal? First name and a close embrace? Maybe she hadn't just come along to Pemberley to be with Mr Bennet. Or to discuss something to do with sewing. Maybe she needed a friend, a friend who lived three days away, four with her master's London team. Darcy calling them slow-footed was very appropriate.

  Soon, the two women were talking away whilst viewing a perfectly proper room on the right side of the long hallway. As soon as they were out of sight, Nick very cautiously approached Mr Bennet, obviously wanting to discuss something he considered of importance but reluctant to intrude on a visiting gentleman, the father of the lady of the house.

  'Never mind, Fowler, if it's important to Mrs Annesley, out with it.'

  'Thank you very much, sir, I think it is.'

  Another nod was needed to get the fellow to spill what he'd learned.

  'She is very afraid to lose her position, sir. Please refrain from putting any pressure on her or she will crack and turn away from you. It's not your fault, it's mostly guilt and fear of being found out, and I'm certain she will get over it when nothing untoward happens. You know what is going on under this roof, don't you? Mr Darcy knows and accepts it though he doesn't like it. He will not hold Mrs Annesley responsible for what you two are doing, at least I don't think so. Good afternoon.'

  He bowed and turned away, telling this was what he had accompanied Mrs Annesley for.

  'Fowler?'

  The burly guard turned around, still respectful but in no way afraid to be berated.

  'Yes, sir?'

  'Thank you. I will do as you say, I had not expected her to be this discomposed. Did you talk?'

  'She did, mostly, sir. A sad story. She needs you. I'll keep an eye on her in the back of the house, better you stay in front. Prying eyes, you see.'

  'I will restrain myself and be good. Thank you.'

  And with one more bow Fowler was gone, leaving Mr Bennet to join the two housekeepers to check out his room. He managed to catch Mrs Annesley's

  eye just once, and Fowler was right, he would have to be very careful not to lose what had grown between the woman he had come to love and himself.

  One wrong move and she'd denounce him, not only breaking his heart but also robbing herself of something that had become precious to her.

  'Well, I thank you for this lovely room, Mrs Reynolds, it's just perfect. I suppose I'd better clean up and change and present myself to my son-in-law and Lord Chester and Lady de Bourgh. Ladies, please enjoy yourselves catching up, if you're not too tired, Mrs Annesley. I've had a really pleasant trip, best one in years actually, I hope you don't mind my being honest with you. Maybe we'll see each other in passing during your stay here?'

  He tried to be subtle but he had to express his feelings, he could not just pretend that their time together meant nothing to him.

  Her reaction made his heart jump, for she did not turn away from him but rather looked him straight in the eye and said, 'I enjoyed travelling together as much as you did, Mr Bennet. And I certainly hope your relatives won't claim all your time, though I suppose that is up to you in a large measure: no-one I know has ever been able to tell you what to do, least of all your favourite daughter.'

  He bowed his head in acknowledgement, then looked up and admitted, 'You have seen through me, Mrs Annesley. In that case, until later.'

  'Until later, Mr Bennet. I expect a full report on Lord Chester. Lady de Bourgh I've seen plenty of myself.'

  He was forgiven. Only with the utmost control could he keep himself from smiling at her or worse, trying to kiss her, but at least all was not lost as of yet. With a mere nod for both women, not the way he wanted to take leave from Mrs Annesley but befitting the difference in rank between her and him, he turned on his heels and made his way to his room to wash and dress.

  When Elizabeth finally came in she had no idea of what had happened between Anne and aunt Catherine first and aunt Catherine and Prince George as a result. So when the latter addressed her with, 'Ah, Mrs Darcy you have returned, looking all the brighter for your exertions on horseback. Did you have an enjoyable lesson?' she replied playfully and honestly.

  'I most certainly did, Lord Chester, though it was very straining as well as great fun. Have you ever ridden carousel? You did tell me you have beautiful riding accommodations at your house.'

  'Riding carousel? Isn't that the providence of the cavalry, my dear Mrs

  Darcy?'

  The prince threw one slightly alarmed look at Darcy, to see how his host bore with his flattering, but since Darcy thought he was onto Prince George's game here he didn't move a muscle, facial or otherwise. Let the heir to the throne praise Elizabeth sky-high, show aunt Catherine she was as beloved in the highest circles as by her nephew.

  Prince George didn't let Eliza
beth answer his question but rather continued, as usual, his critics would say. But Elizabeth somehow knew he was making a point.

  'Just joking, Mrs Darcy, I have had my share of riding lessons and I think I still remember how they made my leg muscles hurt the next day. And since my brothers and I actually had a colonel as our instructor we rode carousel regularly. I loved it, I suppose I always preferred working together over trying to outdo each other, but sadly most of our education consisted of doing just the latter, and as eldest I couldn't let my younger brothers beat me. So I have to admit I went to school well-prepared to win any challenge I was set, and I still don't give in without a fight or graciously. Except here, with all of you in your warm and friendly household. I've had a marvellous time and I hope I will be welcome again, rest assured I will not abuse that privilege by returning too soon, for my advisor is not pleased with me right now. He wants me back in London yesterday.'

  Elizabeth was a bit surprised by his feeling words, but rose to the occasion beautifully.

  'I'm glad we succeeded in giving you what we had hoped to give you, Lord Chester. And we're not entirely done, for I'm counting on you this afternoon to convince Fitzwilliam to let me have a Gothic conservatory built on his ancestral grounds. I really want one, preferably before you manage to have yours realised.'

  See, Darcy wasn't the only one to love Elizabeth's cheek, Prince George relished her banter and clearly let his admiration show. Darcy could not see whether the prince gauged his reaction once again since he stole a look at his aunt himself, to see hers. Incomprehension mostly, no, wait, was that some hint of disgust? She really hated seeing Elizabeth distinguished, and by Prince George! Whilst she was being exactly what aunt Catherine despised, playful, frank and seemingly bereft of anything resembling proper respect for her betters.

  'And you shall have it, my dear lady. I will send you the first two trees to

  plant in it, an orange for yourself and a bergamot for Mrs Brewer. You don't mind giving her the fruit of one tree, do you?'

  'I will do so with pleasure, she deserves the best. But I will secretly enjoy the smell of her bergamot's blossom when no-one is watching, though she may want some of those flowers to make into a condiment. That scent is good enough to eat.'

  'Mrs Darcy, you are a prize. I will order my overpaid and underworked confectioners to start experimenting with orange blossoms. There will be a profusion of them any day now, and my men's creativity tends to be stuck to the fruit and its rind. I'm looking forward to our little excursion this afternoon. And I hope you will introduce me to your father, since I have heard he has just arrived?'

  'It will be my pleasure and my honour, my Lord.'

  'Good, I cannot wait to see him, and congratulate him on raising my ideal of a woman. If only you were a bit older...'

  He didn't even mention the fact that she was married, but Darcy knew that was meant for his aunt, not for him. There was no anger or jealousy rising in his breast, because Prince George didn't mean what he said. And when Elizabeth had accepted the prince's compliments in the spirit in which they were offered, with a playful smile and courteous curtsey, she walked straight towards Darcy and entered his embrace, kissing him right there and then without the slightest hesitation or sense of shame. She was indeed his ideal of a woman, whatever she really was to Prince George.

  'You're not angry, or jealous,' she observed quietly.

  'I'm not. He was just riling up aunt Catherine because she deserved it, trying to give Anne a dressing-down in front of everyone. The prince pulled rank on her with who he really is, too.'

  'So they told you about my father? His companion, too?'

  'Yes, I understood instantly but no-one else will have, they were very cryptic.

  Aunt Catherine only noticed Anne's riding skirts and threw a tantrum. Prince George berated her none too gently. We all saw the real heir to the throne and he was more than a little impressive, we've seen his kind face so far.'

  'Your aunt does bring out the worst in people. In me, too. Will she still give us the letters?'

  'Yes, this afternoon after our outing with the prince. Will Mr Bennet join us soon?'

  'As you can imagine, he is looking forward very much to meeting Lady

  Catherine and seeing his nephew again and in the company of none other than the Prince of Wales. He is thrilled with the very prospect.'

  'Well, your cousin has behaved perfectly all morning, somehow the prince seems my aunt's opposite where Will Collins is concerned, he brings out the best in him. We've had a surprisingly enjoyable morning, until my aunt spotted those riding skirts. I don't understand, I quite like them.'

  'I think that may be the problem, they invite licentiousness. Oh well, let's just wait what your uncle and uncle Gardiner think of them. And my aunt. Then we'll know whether they really are scandalously indecent. Which does not mean I won't wear them if they are, mind you.'

  'Elizabeth, I love you.'

  'I know, my love, and I love you as much. Now, shall we mind our visitors?'

  Having recently felt like a much younger man on a regular basis, Mr Bennet still wasn't too happy to find himself fidgety and nervous like an adolescent boy on his way to a deserved scolding. The way he felt young when on his way to a tryst was markedly different from his current apprehension. He was an adult, for goodness' sake, and Darcy and Lizzy were certainly nothing like his parents had been. And where was that confounded drawing-room, this house was a maze. Maybe he should just find the library and pretend to be lost. But then he'd miss the Prince of Wales.

  'Can I help you, sir?' a polite voice asked to his right. A servant in a magnificent livery was standing to attention as if this was Carlton House itself.

  'Yes, please. I'm looking for the drawing-room, it should be on this floor.'

  'Yes, sir, it's on the other side of the staircase. Shall I lead you to it?'

  'If you please. I'm Mr Bennet, Mrs Darcy's father, and you are?'

  'I'm the butler, sir. Stokes, at your service.'

  'Thank you, Stokes. Do you mind telling me where the library is? I'm planning to spend some time there as soon as I can.'

  'My pleasure, sir. It's actually quite close, just follow this hall the way you were going and take the first door to your left. The master's library is a full two stories high, which means the first floor only has bedrooms in the wing to the left. If you want a tour of the building you can ring the drawing-room bell, there is always someone free to lead you around for half an hour.'

  The brisk pace the butler set kept Mr Bennet from further worrying, and before he knew it he was ushered into a large, richly decorated room looking

  out over the driveway to the house and the lawn beyond, sloping down towards the stream, which was actually almost large enough to be called a river.

  'Papa!'

  At least Lizzy was glad to see him this time, but he didn't plan on spending much time with her right now. While he dressed he had made an important decision and now was the time to implement it: he was not going to wait for whatever Darcy was planning to do with regards to Mrs Annesley, he would address the matter immediately, by himself. As soon as the general greetings were over with he'd seek out his son-in-law, it was the right thing to do.

  'Papa, let me introduce you to Fitzwilliam's aunt and to Lord Chester. The others you already know.'

  Lizzy had always been rather averse to distinctions of rank, and had in fact been rewarded for it by having a man significantly above her fall for her, but introducing her father to the Prince of Wales was a bit too audacious even for a devoted parent to ignore. He gave her a little nudge to gain her attention and made sure to keep his voice low.

  'Lizzy, you can't just take liberties with the Prince of Wales! He's royalty for goodness' sake!'

  She smiled benignly and with a rather superior attitude said, 'But papa, he asked specifically to be introduced to you. I cannot refuse and why should I, you're not shy, are you?'

  The Prince of Wales wanted to be in
troduced to him? Why?

  'Don't look so surprised, papa. It's because you're my father. He said he wanted to meet the man who.. you know, he'll tell you himself, he likes to talk. Just you wait. As Lady Catherine will have to before she gets to meet you, but I suppose she's not as eager anyway. I hope you don't feel you have to wait for her to ask for an introduction?'

  'No, dear Lizzy, she is family, she has no choice. And who wouldn't want to meet someone the crown prince asked for specifically? Even Darcy's aunt should feel my distinction.'

  'That is the right attitude, papa, they must have someone to give the credit or blame for my behaviour.'

  'Lizzy, you are a treasure, but sometimes you make my heart stop with your cheek. Now get on with it, I have a rather unpleasant duty waiting before I can sit back and watch Mr Collins interact with royalty.'

  'You mean Fitzwilliam? Yes, I suppose I'm rather glad I'm not the one having

  to explain to him how you took his carriage and his housekeeper without asking permission first. Well, first things first.

  Lord Chester, you asked to meet my father, Mr Bennet. This is him looking rather smart, I suppose he took some care dressing for once. And papa, this is Lord Chester, a most important figure in town and our entire empire.'

  The prince looked just like his pictures, if one discounted the most unflattering ones which depicted him at least twice his actual size. His florid face made him look younger than his near forty years, but his physique was rather the opposite, he was not an athletic man in build, and combined with the old-fashioned breeches he wore his figure made him look older than his real age. Maybe this was why Mr Bennet felt so young himself, he had embraced the pantaloons and the stylish colours his son-in-law's former valet had introduced him to and he flattered himself that they looked good on him.

  And though his own man had been reluctant at first to adapt this novelty from London, by now he no longer resisted progress, had in fact taken to wearing pantaloons himself. Too bad Mr Bennet had seen no possibility to bring him along to Pemberley, or he would have conceded his master's point comparing Mr Collins and the prince to all the others.