Imperative: Volume 1, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (100 page)

“Let us finish this time.”  He slid so that his back was supported by the headboard and she climbed onto his lap.  Darcy pulled up the counterpane to cover them and they snuggled sleepily together. 

Her eyes flew open.  “Oh, but you were going to take me walking and show me something special . . .”

His arms became an unyielding band and his voice rumbled from the vicinity of her shoulder.  “Elizabeth Darcy, if you move from this spot . . .”

“Yes?”  She asked softly.

“It will be pillows at dawn.” 

“Well, I know where to aim, do I not?”  Giggling, she saw his head lift and one eye open to examine her.  “Perhaps not.”

Darcy’s face returned to its home.  “That is better.” 

“TASTE OF FREEDOM, EH?”   Christmas laughed when Wickham stepped out of the rooming house and took in a breath of air.  “Tastes like the funk off the river.”  He spat on the ground and looked around.  “Well, we’ve got a walk ahead of us.  We should make it before they head for the post office.  If we’re lucky we’ll get a seat inside the coach.”

“That would be welcome.”  Wickham picked up his bag and walked alongside his guard as they made their way to the inn where they would board the mail-coach.  After some time they came into the vicinity of the Old Bailey.  “I wish you had been able to contact the judge.”

“That butler of his said he weren’t home.  Look, I’ve seen you piss your pants in front of him, so he scares you; well I’m no hero either.  He said he’d contact me if anything changed.  Well nuthin’s changed and we’re goin’. 
I’m
not gonna cross him.  You did and look where it landed you!”  Nodding towards the prison, he spoke reverently, “He’s already saved me from there.  He won’t blink to send me in if he has one of his furies on, and nobody would believe anything I said against him.”

“He said wait until Twelfth Night.”

“Yeah, well . . . that’s in two days.  Close enough.”

“What if he doesn’t let your brother out?”

“He will.”  Christmas said confidently.  “He’s a man of his word.”

“Right.”  Wickham felt the point of a knife in his side.

“So am I.” 

“I am not willing to die for anyone but me.”  Their eyes met and the knife was put away. 

Becoming affable again as the prison was left behind, Christmas shot him a look.  “I was thinking . . . you ran away with his niece.”

“Yes.”  He sighed and thought of Georgiana.  “It was perfect.  Until we ran out of money.”

“Perfect!”  Christmas laughed.  “And then you dropped her like a hot potato!” 

“I care for her!  And she cared for me!”

“Yeah, right, you had her fooled.  You liked her when you had the judge’s money to pay your keep; you liked that sweet young thing in your bed.”  Snorting, he coughed and spat on the ground.  “You didn’t take his offer to kiss her out of the kindness of your heart, you hate her brother and you liked his uncle paying you to hurt ‘im.”  Seeing Wickham’s startled expression, he laughed.  “You talk in your sleep.”

“Oh.” 

“I heard a lot of tales while I was looking for you from your friends.  I bet if the judge knew everything he never would have picked you.”

“Why did he?”  Wickham asked warily.

“No idea.  I was hired after she disappeared, just to see if the servants were talking about her being missing, seeing if they thought anything strange was going on.  He was trying to protect her if she was still alive.  When I wasn’t there, I was searching London.  That’s where I got to hear about you.”  He chuckled.  “You pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes.”  Christmas’s laugh grew louder then he pointed his finger.  “I heard about that ransom you asked for her.  Ten thousand, right?”  He snorted.  “Yeah, you cared for her all right, enough to line your pockets and keep you in drink.  You didn’t care until you landed in the judge’s private prison.”  He cocked his head.  “I heard you sold all of her belongings, too?” 

“What are you getting at!”  Wickham demanded.

“I passed her brother’s house when I stopped to see the judge.  Thought of dropping in on my missus, you know, to say hullo, but . . . thought better of it.  Your girl gets everything when her brother dies?”  Christmas raised his brows when Wickham said nothing.  “And she thinks she likes you.”  He paused and gave him an assessing look.  “Do you have the balls to get her back?  Elope for real?  Before the judge gets his son hooked up with her?”  He saw Wickham’s brow crease.  “Come on, sweet young thing, rich . . .  Like falling in a tub of butter.” 

“A tub of butter coming to the boil.  He’d kill me!  You know damn well that if I eloped with her and came back to claim Pemberley I’d be dead before I stepped out of the carriage. 
No
, thank you.”

“Yeah.”  Christmas rubbed his jaw.  “Yeah, he’d kill you for sure.”

“He’d kill you for suggesting it.”  Wickham saw him pale and looked at him pointedly.

“Didn’t think of that . . .  Well if it’s just because you care for
her
, settle for the dowry and leave the rest for the judge.”  Christmas gained back his confidence and laughed.   “That’d satisfy him, I’d wager!  I bet that if you went to him afterwards, you know when he is supposed to pay you off to get you out of England . . . what if you said you’d sign something, giving up your rights to her inheritance if you get her and the dowry?”  Wickham stared at him and Christmas nodded, “That’s the way!  He’s after that estate, not wife-hunting for his son.  If it was all about that, he’d have her married to him by now.  He wouldn’t kill you if you just asked, would he?  And that would leave his son to marry whoever he wants.”  Grinning with his brilliance, he pointed ahead to the shiny maroon and black mail-coach parked outside of the
Bell and Crown
.  “Looks like we’re just in time.” 

“Yes . . .”  Wickham spoke quietly to himself, “If I can have Georgie . . .
and
her dowry . . . maybe it’s not so bad . . .”

“COMING TO LONDON seemed like such a good idea at home.”  Jane turned away from the window overlooking Gracechurch Street and back to face her aunt and sister. 

“It
was
a good idea.  Mary has some lovely things to begin her life as a married woman and had the opportunity to see our home for the first time.  You have made a few nice purchases yourself . . .”   Mrs. Gardiner smiled.  “I know; these are not the things you were thinking about.”

“No.”  Jane said softly.  “I sent my note a week ago; surely Miss Bingley should have responded by now.  Do you think it was lost?  I would pay a call, but . . . should I?  I would hate to arrive and not be welcome.”

“They were always welcoming of you at Netherfield, and whenever we met at our neighbour’s homes.”  Mary offered.   “They were kinder to you than anyone else, as far as I could see.” 

“They were kind to most everyone.  Perhaps they were just . . .” Jane saw Mary’s grim expression and stopped.  “Lizzy always did say that Miss Bingley was not particularly happy with her.” 

“No small wonder, she stole Mr. Darcy out from under her nose.”  Mr. Gardiner smiled and joined the ladies.  “So we resume the topic of days’ past?” 

“You are returning home in two days, Jane.  If you are to visit, this is the day.”  Mrs. Gardiner said pointedly.

“I know.”  She twisted the ribbon on her dress.    “But I cannot stop thinking of why Miss Bingley wrote that her brother would not return to Hertfordshire after he told Lizzy and Mr. Darcy that he would.  Is this her desire or his?”

“Is it not his decision if they should return or not?  After all, he is the one leasing the estate.  She is just his younger sister and dependant on him as the head of the family.  When I leave Longbourn I will be going from Papa’s care to Mr. Collins’s.”  Mary asked and looked to her uncle who was nodding and looking pointedly at Jane.

“Unless Mr. Bingley is completely under his sisters’ thumbs, and it did not impress me that he was . . . I would say that if he had good reason to return, he would.  I rather gathered that he was indulging them by staying as long as he has.  Of course, he does need a good reason to return.”  Mr. Gardiner looked to his wife and sat down opposite his niece.  “Jane.”  She looked up to him.  “Why did you really come to London?”

She bit her lip and finally spoke the truth.  “I hoped to see Mr. Bingley.” 

“Why?”  Mrs. Gardiner pushed her.

“Because I . . . I know my feelings and I fear that I will never have the opportunity to show them to him.”  She twisted the ribbon on her skirt again and shook her head.  “Lizzy leapt into the unknown with Mr. Darcy and she is so happy with him.  I would not even risk saying that I like Mr. Bingley and look where I am.”

“What do you say to this?  It is early yet, I will hire a carriage for the morning.  You ladies can take a ride to Mayfair, drive down Park Lane, and take a look at Lizzy’s new home.  You know that your mother will love to hear about that, and then, just because you are near, stop in Grosvenor Street and pay a call.  If they are there, I am sure that they will be happy to receive you for fifteen minutes.”   Mr. Gardiner smiled at her when she looked up.  “Then you will know.”

Two hours later, their hired hack-chaise was rolling down Park Lane.  “There, on the corner.”  Mrs. Gardiner pointed.  “Darcy House.” 

“Oh my.”  Jane’s hand went to her mouth. 

“That is Lizzy’s home?”  Mary gasped.

“One of them.  Pemberley is three times the size, if not more.”  Mrs. Gardiner smiled at their astonished faces.  “I wish she was at home, the interior is . . . impossible to describe, but overwhelming.  It was all I could do to walk around without my knees knocking.”  Laughing at their wide eyes as the chaise turned the corner, she pointed.  “Those arched windows along the side are for the ballroom.” 

“Oh imagine dancing there.”  Jane whispered.

“I am sure that you will be invited when they come again.” 

“No wonder Mr. Darcy is proud.”  Mary finally turned to face forward.  “I cannot imagine living there.  I wonder how it compares to Rosings.  From Mr. Collins’ descriptions, Mr. Darcy’s aunt lives in a palace.  He is right to speak of her so humbly.”

“How was Lizzy when you saw her?”  Jane asked curiously, finally looking away from the beautiful home.  “I know how overwhelmed I felt just sleeping in Netherfield; to be mistress of such homes as you describe . . . She must have been terrified when she came here.”

“She hid it well, but of course she would, and Mr. Darcy was very kind and supportive.”  Mrs. Gardiner laughed.  “You look surprised, Mary.” 

“Mr. Darcy is a difficult man to understand.” 

“As long as Lizzy does, that is all that matters.”  She smiled at Jane who had become silent as they turned onto Grosvenor Street.  They watched the house numbers and at last the carriage stopped.  They looked at each other and up at the townhouse.  “Well.  Here we are.  It is certainly not on a par with Darcy House.”

“The Hurst’s home is much less intimidating.”  Jane murmured. 

“Go on, Jane.  Be like Lizzy.”  Mary urged her. 

“No, be like yourself, that is who Mr. Bingley liked, just . . . let him see you this time.”

“If he is there.”  Jane took a breath and stepped down first, and walking to the door, rang the bell.

“Mrs. Edward Gardiner, Miss Jane Bennet, and Miss Mary Bennet, madam.”  The housekeeper curtseyed and stepped aside so that the ladies could enter the drawing room.

Louisa recovered herself and stood.  “Well, this is a surprise, Miss Bennet, Miss Mary . . .”

Jane curtseyed and looked to her family, “This is our aunt, Mrs. Gardiner.  We are visiting with her while Mary makes some purchases for her wedding.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Gardiner.”  Louisa looked her up and down and surprised to see nothing amiss, turned to Mary, “A wedding!  I had no idea, congratulations, Miss Mary; may I ask who you will marry?  I am afraid that I missed the announcement.” 

“Our cousin, Mr. Collins.  It was a small announcement, but I have a clipping if you would like to see?”  Mary dug into her reticule as the ladies found their seats. 

“Of course,” She took the paper and studied it for a moment before handing it back to her.  “This is Longbourn’s heir, if I remember correctly?”

“Yes.”  Jane nodded, and looking around asked hesitantly, “Is . . . Miss Bingley at home?”

“She is out with Charles, I am afraid.  She will be quite put out to have missed you.”  Louisa noted the disappointment, knowing it most certainly was not for Caroline. 

“What a shame,” Mrs. Gardiner said softly.  “Jane was looking forward to seeing her.”

“Guests?”  They heard a man’s voice.  “Really?”  Boots thudded up the stairs and in the doorway appeared Hurst.  “Well my goodness, Miss Bennet!”  He smiled when the ladies stood.  “And your sister . . . and . . .”  He looked at Louisa.

“Mrs. Gardiner.” 

“Mrs. Gardiner.”  He repeated and smiled as he nodded, “Ah yes, Bingley spoke of meeting you at Darcy’s house not so many weeks ago!” 

“Yes, he was an unexpected addition to the dinner party.”  She smiled while he laughed.  “You do not appear to be surprised, sir?”

“That Bingley would appear unexpectedly?  No, not at all.  He is a good egg, if not terribly precise with his timing.”  His smile returned to Jane.  “He will be
very
sorry to have missed you.”

“He will?”  Jane’s eyes widened.

“Oh yes, but I suppose that your reason for visiting was to see Louisa and Caroline . . .” He watched the blush creeping up her cheeks.

“I . . . of course, but I certainly would not have objected to meeting Mr. Bingley as well.  I was disappointed to learn that you would not be returning to Netherfield.”  She watched his eyebrows lift and his head turning to his wife.

“Really?”

“You must have misunderstood Caroline’s letter, Miss Bennet.”  Louisa said quickly.

“I doubt that, Caroline is quite accomplished with her letter writing, she will tell you so herself.”  Hurst cleared his throat and turned back to Jane.  “Bingley has every intention of returning to Netherfield, he . . .”  They heard the front door opening and a man’s voice talking over the whining of a woman.  “I will let him tell you himself.”  Smiling he stood and moved to the door and went to the top of the stairs.  “Bingley, we have guests.”