Imperative: Volume 1, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (110 page)

“It is nothing like that sir, perhaps it was just . . . emotional pain at a difficult moment.”

“I hope then that those moments are few and far between for you, sir.  Particularly after yesterday, I would say you have had your quota.”  Mr. Fleming picked up his bag.  “Now I will pay a call on your dear wife.” 

“Take care of her, sir.  I . . . I forced her from the carriage.” 

“Hmm, probably not the first man who wished to do that with his wife.  And you lived to tell the tale!”  Winking, he raised his hand and followed Judy to Elizabeth’s chambers.

Darcy laughed and suddenly realized that it did not hurt like it had a few moments earlier.  He took a full deep breath and let it out.  Relief washed over him and he turned on his side to watch the door for Elizabeth, but found his eyes closing as finally, he slept.  

SAMUEL BEGAN TO STAND when his mother entered the dining room, but she smiled and shook her head so he sank back down.  “How is Father?”

“Sleeping.  The passion flower tea was just what he needed.  Dr. Fleming agreed that it is excellent for those withdrawing from opium addiction.  He was quite angry with Carson’s actions.” 

“Why he is still employed is what I would like to know.”  Samuel said in a low voice to keep the servants from hearing.

 “He thought that he was doing well by him.  I will interview him this afternoon, and I will decide the status of his employment.”  She poured out some tea for herself and added some milk.  “I was afraid for your father all night.  I have not seen him so devastated for years, not since your uncle died.

Samuel rubbed his face tiredly, “He refused to leave the search.  I tried to coax him into a wagon to go to Pemberley, but he refused outright.  I could not even convince him to sit in that little cabin there in the groves.” 

A look of pain crossed his eyes and Susan touched his arm.  “How is your injury?” 

“It is nothing, a bruise, a sprain.  I knocked my knee when the coach turned over.”  He stared disgustedly into his coffee.  “I will survive.  Mr. Fleming laughed when he compared my wound to William’s.  He said even Elizabeth was worse than I.” 

“What is bothering you, then?  You are not yourself, dear.”

“That is what worries me, if I had a glimpse into my true self yesterday.”  He saw his mother’s confusion and nearly spat out his angry words, “I left Darcy to die.  I lost all faith in his survival . . . What am I saying?  I was certain he was dead when Elizabeth first showed me the curricle!  I had him written off, buried . . . My mind was full of his will and the business of Pemberley’s disposition.  How I would need to return to London after the funeral and see that the details were implemented.  I thought of Elizabeth’s grief and what I could do to comfort her.”  Susan watched him stare out of the window.  “I thought of the choice she faced, being a widow after not even two months of marriage and having to decide if she would remain at Pemberley alone for the rest of her life, or if she would leave to marry another and find fulfilment that way.”  He stood and limped around the table.  “And then I became angry with her for abandoning Darcy’s memory for another man!  Imagine that!  Me!  Angry with her for abandoning him in my imagination when every person, every one of them on that hillside, had already laid him to rest in a crypt at All Saints.  It was Elizabeth who saved him!   Elizabeth is the sole person who never gave up hope!”  He pounded on the table.  “I am utterly ashamed with myself.  How dare I forsake him?   How dare I roll my eyes when Elizabeth ran to the ridge and cried his name?  She had faith, she had trust . . .” 

“She had love.” 

“Yes.”  He murmured.  “Love never fails.”

Susan tried to reassure him.   “I felt the same, that there was no chance he would survive such a fall.”

“No, Mother.  Do not make excuses for me.”  Samuel shook his head and sank back down into his chair.  “Did you know that Darcy set the wheels in motion for me to take the partnership with Mr. Mayfield last year?  He has been thinking of my well-being for . . . I do not even know how long, and here I dare discard his survival after mere moments?  How cock-sure was I that I should forsake this man . . . he is as good as a brother to me.”  Wiping his eyes again, he swallowed hard.  “He
is
my brother.  And I failed him.”

“You did not fail him!  You cared for Elizabeth.  You cared for the single most important person in his life and in that you served him well.  Yes, you may have felt that it was a hopeless indulgence to let her lead those men to search the hillside . . .”

Samuel interrupted.  “There was no letting involved, Mother.  Elizabeth would have gone with or without any one of us.” 

“So she had enough faith for all of you.”  Susan nodded at him.  “All it takes is one to lead.”

“All of us men, and it was a woman’s love that found him.  I wonder what a lesser wife would have done for him.  What if it was Anne, or Cathy?”  He sighed and held his face in his hands.  “I thought of Georgiana and what was to become of her.  With Darcy gone, there was no hope of carrying off this attempt to hide the baby.”  He looked back up.  “I thought . . . I would marry her.”

Susan stared.  “But you do not love her, nor do you want her.  We would have worked something out.  I thought myself that your father and I could take her to Scotland.  What would become of the baby, I do not know, but at least she would have been saved and could have gone on to marry and bear a legitimate heir.”

“I would have married her for Darcy.  I would have married her to . . . make his hope of protecting her and our family name possible.  It is the least I could have done.”  He whispered, and swallowing, he wiped his eyes once more.  “Thank God for Elizabeth.  He would not have survived the night, I think.”  He looked at his mother and took her hand.  “Forgive my ramblings.  I am not at ease.   Two men are dead.  One a loyal servant, the other, a stranger.  Why was that man there?  What did he scream to startle the horses?  Why do I dread learning what his purpose was?”

“Samuel.”  Susan squeezed his hand.  “Your worry, your concern, reminds me so much of your father.  Just now I could imagine he was the one speaking.”  Samuel looked down.  “I think that with this experience my boy is becoming a man.  You are facing burdens, real and imagined, and trying your best to find solutions that would benefit your family, not yourself.”

“How could anything in this benefit me?”  He said unhappily.

“Well, for one thing, if you married Georgiana and had a child with her, you would become Master of Pemberley would you not?  To hold it for him?” 

Samuel looked at her blankly and then thinking of the details of the will, nodded.  “I had not considered that.  What would Father say?  That is the last thing I would want and not just because it would require William’s death to achieve it.”  He stood and leaned to kiss her cheek.  “I am going to drive up to the manor and see how they are doing.  Mr. Fleming was encouraging, but I need to see it with my own eyes.”

“Give them our love.”  She smiled.  “Please do not beat yourself over your reactions, dear.  I am very proud of you.”  Samuel closed his eyes and shook his head.  “Remember, Fitzwilliam took over Pemberley at this same age that you are now.  That is what made him a man, one that you admire enough to call brother.  Maybe as he is forced to remain still and recuperate, the two of you could talk about shouldering burdens.  I think that he would be glad to speak with you.  After all, you do not need to rush back to London now.  Take advantage of this time.”

“That is a . . . sound idea.  Thank you, Mother.” 

Before too long he was approaching Pemberley House, and studying the ancient building.  “To be the master of all this would be something . . . something I do not want.”  A groom appeared and held his horse as he slowly climbed down from the gig.  Wondering what he would find within, he entered the side door and walked down the long panelled hallway and into the great foyer.  “Where is everyone?”  He asked Evans as a maid took his things.

“Miss Darcy is in the yellow drawing room, Mrs. Darcy is walking the halls, and Mr. Darcy hopefully still sleeps, sir.”  Evans indicated the stairs.  “Perhaps if you would visit with Miss Darcy, I can ask Mrs. Darcy to join you?”

“Only if she wishes it.  I know that walking brings her relief.”  Samuel lifted his eyes to the top of the stairs and turned back to Evans.  “The man, Christmas, does anyone know anything of him?”

“Only that he was a friend of our cook in London.  His body has been sent to the undertaker and he will be buried in Lambton, I understand.”

“And of course Fitzwilliam will pay for that.”  Samuel murmured to himself and started up the stairs.  Upon entering the drawing room he saw Georgiana seated on a sofa.  A baby’s gown was in her hands and she was concentrating on her stitches.  It did his heart good to see her in such a position of tranquillity.  If it were not for the circumstances of her pregnancy, he might even have felt happy at the sight of her.

“Oh, Samuel!”  She started when she noticed him at the door.

“Forgive me, I was just . . . It was a charming scene.”

“Charming?  Watching me make a mess of this gown?”  She smiled a little when he did and set down her sewing while he walked into the room.  “You are still limping.  Does it hurt a great deal?”

“It is not so bad.”  He sat beside her and stretched out his leg.  “It will heal before too long.  I understand that William and Elizabeth are . . . reasonably well.”

“Yes.”  She nervously clasped her hands together.  “I . . . I have not been brave enough to visit him, yet.”

Samuel smiled, “He is the same man, just a little battered and bruised.”

“He nearly died.” 

“But he lives.” 

“What would have become of me if he died?”  She whispered and jumped when Samuel snapped. 

“Georgiana, for once could you think of someone besides yourself?  It is extremely unattractive.”

Her eyes widened.  “But . . . but is it so wrong?  I . . .” Her voice dropped, “I would never marry if he died, would . . . would this baby have to be the heir?  Fitzwilliam would just die if Mr. Wickham’s child became Master of Pemberley!”  Unconsciously, she laid her hand over her stomach and Samuel stared and blinked.

He would just die
.  Shaking his head with her choice of words, he took Georgiana’s hand in his.  “Forgive my outburst.  Of course you would be worried.  Mother and Father would have taken you to Scotland and the plan would have proceeded.  You would have married and your child from that union would be the heir.”

“Oh.”  Her gaze dropped to his hand holding hers.  “I did not mean to sound selfish, so many thoughts were rushing through my mind yesterday and . . . well I had nobody to talk to about them.  I felt guilty for even thinking that he would not live.  Elizabeth was so positive that he was just waiting to be found.  I guess it was just . . . because I had lost Papa so suddenly that I expected the worst.”

“Yes, well . . . I can understand that.”  He realized he was still holding her hand and let go.  “There is no need for further speculation, William will be well; and . . . knowing his love for your sister, they will surely be producing a houseful of potential heirs soon, so all of these thoughts are unnecessary.”  He smiled a little and stood.  “I am going to seek out Elizabeth.  She is walking somewhere?”

“She does that a great deal.  But I think you will find her in the gallery.”  She shrugged at his surprise.  “She likes to gaze at Fitzwilliam’s portrait.”

“Oh.”  Samuel nodded.  “Of course.”  He left the room and wandered the halls, and found himself at the entrance to the gallery.  As predicted, Elizabeth was there, her arms were wrapped around herself and her head was bowed.

“Elizabeth?”  She felt a hand touch her shoulder and turning she fell against Samuel’s chest.  “Elizabeth!”  Unsure of what to do, he patted her back while she sobbed and held onto his waist.  “Are . . . are you well?  No, of course not . . . I . . . May I find William for you?  No, no . . . what am I saying?”  He looked down to her face pressed into his coat.  “I am so sorry.”  He whispered.  At last his arms closed around her and he let her cry it out.  

“I am so tired.”  She finally drew a shaky breath.

“I know, I know.”  Samuel said softly and closed his eyes.  “You have done so well.”  

“No I have not, but I am trying.”  She looked up, seeing the familiar line of his jaw she thought for a moment that she was in Darcy’s arms, then seeing his face, she stiffened and felt his arms let go.  “Samuel . . . oh, I made a mess of your coat, I am afraid.” 

“It is just damp.”  He smiled at the wet spot and drew out his handkerchief to dab at it.  Elizabeth found the one that she kept in her sleeve and wiped her eyes.  “Feeling better?”

“I feel like a fool.”

“Please do not, you have been the lynchpin keeping everything together, you are entitled to a cry now and again.”  He touched her puffy face.  “Well, perhaps you have cried a bit more than usual.”

She laughed and clasped his hand.  “Fitzwilliam said much the same thing not so long ago, that I was a lynchpin . . . you two do think similarly.”  Looking him over, she watched his brows crease and his hazel eyes studying her.  “I was incorrect; you are not Fitzwilliam’s twin.”

“It would be a miracle if I were.”  He laughed, relieved to see her returning to herself.  “What gives me away?  Fitzwilliam mentioned rather smugly that you had drawn this conclusion, but I would like to hear it from your lips.”

“Oh, a million little things are missing, and you have your own individuality.”  Elizabeth drew a breath and relaxed at last. 

“I am glad to be myself.”  He smiled when she took his hand in hers.  “What is missing?”

“Well for one thing, your face is not covered in bruises and you do not have a lash across your cheek.” 

“At last I have found something of my cousin I do not wish to emulate.”  They both laughed and Samuel led them to a bench by a window.  “How are you?”

“Better, confused, angry . . .”  She shrugged.  “At least I am no longer frightened.  He will be fine.  Sore for a long time, but fine.  When I left him he was puzzling out the mystery of Mr. Christmas and why he would curse at us.”