Imperative: Volume 1, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (111 page)

“Yes, that is on my mind.  As well as my father’s concerns that he expressed yesterday before this all happened, about setting a man at the gate to look out for Wickham.”

Elizabeth’s eyes grew wide.  “I had forgotten all about that.  Do you think there is some odd connection?  Would Mr. Christmas know Mr. Wickham?”

“I do not know . . . I have not had an opportunity to interview Father, but . . . Fitzwilliam mentioned the portrait yesterday.  Perhaps it would not hurt to have a man stationed at the gate, just . . . I do not know why, but . . .”  He looked down at her hand and back up.  “If there is something afoot, I could not bear to know that something might have been done to prevent it.  Although you might think it is too much too late.”

She raised her hand to her chest.  “I pray that this is the Darcy pessimism rather than clairvoyance I am hearing here.”  Seeing his rueful smile she stood.  “Come with me.”  They left the gallery and made their way in silence to the mistress’s study, located on the side of the house overlooking the gardens. 

Samuel looked around the pleasant room. “Do you like it in here?”

“Oh.”  She laughed.  “I have yet to use it.  Fitzwilliam has not tired of me opening my mail in his study.  I suppose someday the novelty will wear off and he will nudge me into here.” 

“I doubt that.”  Samuel smiled and she blushed while unlocking a drawer in the desk.  She drew out a small portrait. 

“Well, here he is, in all of his smirking glory.”  They studied Wickham together.  “I can see why he would turn a girl’s head.  He is handsome.”

“I do not see it at all.” 

Elizabeth laughed at his fierce expression.  “Of course not.”  She handed it to him.  “Well, I do not know who to assign this task, but I imagine that Mr. Barnes can help you.  Fitzwilliam certainly has no desire to think about him so if you will take it on, I would appreciate it.”

“Of course.”  He smiled and looked back at the man who caused so much misery and his brow creased.  “Odd.  He looks . . . familiar.”

“Oh?”  She looked around his shoulder.  “You have met him, I am sure?”

“It was years ago when I last saw him, I was hardly a frequent companion, and I was a boy of sixteen.  No, this was recent.”  His brow creased as he stared.  “There is something about his eyes . . .”  Shaking his head he shrugged.  “I do not know.  It will come to me when I least expect it.” 

“Hmmm, probably when you are in your bath.”  Samuel’s eyes widened and she pressed her hand to her mouth and laughed.  “Oh dear, to see your face!  Forgive me for shocking you!  I . . . I just have my most brilliant thoughts in the bath.”  She squeezed his forearm and turned to lock up the drawer then looked back up to him.  “Now then, honest assessment, do I look like I have been crying?”  He hesitated.  “I do.  Very well.  Fitzwilliam will have a fit to know that I was in tears again, so I propose this.  I will visit with Georgiana until I am reasonably presentable.  You will go and rescue my husband from whatever dark thoughts he is entertaining, and . . . could you please speak of some sort of exhausting male activity with him?  That should distract his mind.”

“Such as?”  Samuel laughed.

“Hunting or . . . oh, fencing!”  Her eyes lit up.

“He is likely to skewer me, if his mood is anything like yours, even without a foil.”

“Please, something . . . and then the two of you can work out some wonderful plan for your father and . . . please.”

His gaze travelled over her face, “Of course, Elizabeth.  I will do anything you ask of me.” 

Elizabeth turned and taking a sheet of paper from her desk she picked up a pen and wrote Darcy a short note.  “There, now present this to him and . . . take care of him.” 

“I will.” 

She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek.  “Thank you.”  Tugging the portrait from his grip, she left it on the desk.  “Just pick this up before you depart.  Fitzwilliam does not need to see it.”

Samuel watched her go, touched the wet spot on his coat and looking down at the note in his hand, walked through the hallways to the master’s chambers.  He listened, and then knocked.  “William?  It is Samuel.”

The door opened and Parker bowed his head as he passed through and closed it behind him.  He saw Georgiana sitting by his side.  “Oh, I am sorry to interrupt . . .”

Darcy smiled at his distraught sister and patted her hand.  “No . . . It is quite all right.  She just came to look in on me.”

“I was just leaving, excuse me.”  Georgiana slipped past and when she was gone, the two men faced each other.  Darcy immediately focussed on his cousin’s coat, and examining the wet spot on his nightshirt, looked back up to Samuel’s eyes.

“This is for you . . .” 

Taking the paper, Darcy searched his face and then opened the note.

I am afraid that I will require longer than a moment, Will.  I am going to finish my walk and visit Georgiana.  Samuel is in great need of exercise himself and has suggested a jousting tournament for the two of you.  Do not hurt him too badly; I know how skilled you are with your sword.  Perhaps tonight you may demonstrate to me how well you thrust?

There, you asked for me to tease you.  I know that no thrusting of any sort will be taking place anytime soon, but that does not stop you from discussing it with your cousin . . . or me, for that matter.  I look forward to experiencing your skilled tongue.  After all, your lips are not bruised.  Not yet, anyway.

I love you,

Elizabeth

Darcy’s cheeks reddened and he bit his lip before looking back to Samuel’s coat.  “She was in tears.”

“She . . . yes.  I came upon her in the gallery.  I . . . I offered comfort . . .”

“It is quite all right, Samuel.  I am grateful for the care you obviously have for my wife.”  Darcy turned slowly and tucked the note under his pillow.  “Now, my wife suggests topics of conversation for us, which means that you have much weightier matters to discuss.”  Grimacing, he sat up and indicated a chair at the side of the bed.  “I have already dispatched a note to Richard.  Now I would like to hear your opinion.”

Samuel walked around the bed and sat down.  “But what if Elizabeth returns?”  

Darcy sighed and reached for a cup of warm cider.  “Speak of thrusting.  That should distract her.”

“WHAT A SOUND.”  Richard stared up at the ceiling.  “It is what he deserves, though.”

Lord Matlock listened to his eldest son’s cries and moans.  “How much longer can this go on?  I should have moved his apartments.”

“Where, to the stables?  You would hear him no matter where he was.  Withdrawal is not pleasant, everything hurts.  Everything leaks, from your nose to your bowels.”  His hand paused over the port, and thinking better of it, reached for the whiskey instead.  “I have seen enough men suffer through it from one addiction or another.  Not pretty.”

“What is left when they are finished?”

“Depends on the man.  He will be over the worst of the physical symptoms soon.  It’s their head that gets them.”  He tapped his skull.  “They think that they need it, but their body is fine.  Maybe by this autumn he will be himself.  I was talking to Mr. Pritchard last night when Bertie managed to fall asleep.  In his experience, he has found that they might celebrate their sobriety for weeks, even years, and then they think that they can certainly abide a little taste . . .”  He shook his head.  “They take an amount similar to the one they last tolerated and whoosh!  They are dead.” 

“Just like that.”  Lord Matlock murmured.

“Just like that.  I am amazed that the arsenic did not kill him already, and that his looks are essentially unharmed.  No wonder there have not been many rumours about him as yet.”  Richard took a sip of his drink and grimacing, looked at the bottle.  “Good heavens, Father, shall I loan you a few pounds so you can buy some decent libations?  What on earth is this?”

“Whiskey!”  Lord Matlock sighed at his sceptical look.  “It is.” 

“Fine.”  He downed the drink and set down the glass.  “I took a tour of the estate, Matlock seems intact.”

“It is not Matlock, it is the debt.” 

“Gladney looks as if it was cleared out for redecorating.  A new bride would be thrilled.”  He chuckled softly.

“What is it?  Any hint of humour would be welcome.”

“I can imagine a woman who would marry Bertie if Anne says no.”

“Oh?”

He nodded.  “Caroline Bingley.” 

“Who is that?” 

“Sister of Charles Bingley, Darcy’s friend?  He is leasing the Netherfield estate where Darcy stayed this past autumn.”

“Nice girl?” 

“No, but she has a nice dowry.  And she would
love
to be a countess.”  He laughed.  “Oh, she would lord that over everyone she meets.  Mercenary witch.” 

“As tempting as that possibility is, I think that I have enough mercenary women in my midst.”  Lord Matlock looked back up at the ceiling.   “I think that we both know that you will be heir, Son.” 

“Perhaps.”  Richard looked at his feet.  “I cannot say that the prospect brings me joy, both for the loss of the brother I no longer recognize and for the gain of a title that I really do not want.”  He looked back up to his frowning father.  “It is the truth Father, I have thought about it from time to time, but seeing Bertie, seeing you . . . It no longer holds any appeal.”

“I am sorry to hear that.  And it is entirely my fault, I know.  However, it is also a burden that I think you should grow used to carrying.  No doubt you will also lead your family differently.”

“My family?”  Lord Matlock watched him staring out of the window.  “I cannot afford one.  So let us focus on the present.  What are we to do with Bertie?  Your session reconvenes soon, you must return.”

“I know, I should be leaving now, but I will delay one more week.”  He rubbed his face and rested his head back against his chair.  “Your mother is anxious to have Cathy married off before word of Albert’s situation is noted, so they must travel with me to have her gowns ordered for the Season.  I will be glad to see her married.  That savings alone will probably refurnish the dower house.”  He smiled with Richard’s snort.  “Of course, we do not know if Darcy will tolerate us and loan us his wife.  He is justifiably infuriated.”  Sighing he looked back at his son.  “When must you return?”

“I do not like leaving Bertie.  Some family should remain with him.”  He looked up to the ceiling, “Unfortunately I have received a letter and I can give you just one more week, so I will travel with you, if you do not mind.  One week.”  He spoke grimly, “And that is munificent as far as my superiors are concerned.  I am curious what assignment I will receive as a result of their generosity.”

“They would not send you to the war . . .”

“No . . .”  He bit his lip and shook his head.  “No, I do not think so, but then again with so many officers being killed, they just might.  I have been anticipating it for some time.  And I would, of course, go.  I have done it before, I can do it again.”  Richard’s eyes met his father’s.  “You had better sober Bertie, you just may need him.” 

“You will not go.  I will not allow it.”  Lord Matlock sat up and pounded his fist on the desk.

“You are not my general.”  Richard laughed.  “Oh, I will endear myself to the old boy, he will find me indispensible and . . .”  He sighed and looked down at his boots.  “Who knows.” 

Lord Matlock watched his son, “I am sorry.”

“It is not your doing.  I could have been an amiable curate waiting for the living on Matlock to open up.  Or a barrister, fighting for justice of another sort.  Bertie encouraged me to join the army.  I believe that it has been to my benefit for the most part.” 

“Richard.  If it comes to that point where you have to go . . .”  Richard looked up to his father when he heard him draw a long breath, “I will ask Darcy for help.”  A smile spread across his son’s lips.  “What?”

“You do love me if you are willing to beg Darcy for funds again.”  Richard laughed at his father’s reddened face.  “If it comes to that point,
I
will speak to Darcy.  I have a feeling that he will not be in London often in the coming months.  Perhaps if he chooses to send Georgiana there with a new companion I could stay at the house and actually perform my role of guardian.  By that time, Bertie might be sorted out, one way or another.  If something happens before then I suppose that I could act as
his
companion.”  Richard sighed.  “He certainly needs one.” 

“I wonder; if I confessed all to Catherine and offered marriage to Anne as the reward. Would she be willing to let him recover at Rosings?”

“Oh good God, Father!  We will be trying to break him of depression, not send him leaping off the manor’s roof!  If you do write, prepare to grovel.  You know Aunt loves that.”  Richard laughed and a smile twitched at his father’s lips.  “There is time enough for marrying him off to Anne.  As much as I do not like it, I suppose he will be fine with Pritchard here as his minder, he seems a no-nonsense fellow.  I thought that you wrote to Aunt Catherine already?”

“Rosings would save us all.”  Lord Matlock mused quietly.  “No, I thought better of it.  Being forced to apologize to Elizabeth for my son’s behaviour that I fuelled; ignored, and ultimately did not control made me wonder about how many other Elizabeths he has befouled.  If it were not for her marriage to Darcy, I would think nothing of it . . . because they were so far below me.”

Richard sat up with a smile.  “I can imagine her sharp tongue responding to that sentence now, and Darcy’s fury rising.  Although it was not so long ago that he might have thought similarly to you.”  Lord Matlock’s head tilted.  “I said
might
have.  He is quite a changed man since marriage found him.”

“Well . . . I had a long talk with Darcy before we left as well.”  He shifted uncomfortably and his face coloured.  “In any case, like you, Pritchard warned me that Albert would be in a black funk for months, and said to keep him away from his old haunts.  Honestly, I do not think that I can marry him to anybody, even Anne.  She would demand the life of a countess in waiting and he is not capable of returning to society again, he cannot be trusted.  Besides, if he has the French disease . . .”