Imperative: Volume 1, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (112 page)

“That would not be fair to her.  Although I truly doubt that she could tolerate life in society, no matter how much she and Aunt might crave it.”  Richard tilted his head as his father folded his hands and tapped them on his chin.  “What are you thinking?”

“Maybe that is the way to handle it.  He remains a bachelor and you will simply receive the title by default.”  He sat up a little as his words sunk in.  “I could give you his old allowance as your income so that you would have the greater amount, I could give you Gladney as well; use the income from the estate to refurnish it and pay his debts while you remain in the army or . . . if you follow through on this plan for Darcy you would have no expenses other than clothing and entertainment . . . Albert could take your smaller allowance and live on that here at Matlock.”   His brows rose as Richard’s furrowed.  “You could marry in a year or two, sooner if your wife does not mind a few empty rooms.”

“Can you really do this?”

“Why not?  We are not denying him the title, only changing his living arrangements.  I own Gladney, it is merely tradition that the viscount resides there as he awaits ascendency.  After all, I have already cut his allowance to the bare bones.  As long as I continue to breathe and remain Earl, then this should work.  It will be time enough to see what comes of your brother at least.  I will speak to Easterly about it when I return to London.”  A smile appeared,  “At last I can do right by you, Richard, and perhaps in a small way, I am doing right by your brother, as well.”

“I do not know what to say, Father.”  Richard stared at him and true to his word, lapsed into silence. 

Lord Matlock laughed.  “Good heavens, Richard!  I must mark this day down!”

“Amusing, Father.”  He thought over the possibilities.  “I do not know, the idea sounds fine here in the comfort of your study, but . . .” He looked back up to the ceiling.  “I sincerely doubt that the income from Gladney would cover Matlock’s debt or need to replenish what was sold.  And besides that, I would not discount my brother’s reaction.” 

“As long as I breathe he will have to listen to me.”  Lord Matlock said grimly.  “I owe it to our family.”

There was a knock at the door and a footman entered with a salver.  “A note from Pemberley for you, Colonel.  The messenger will wait.”

“What could this be?”  Richard picked up the envelope and studied the handwriting.  It was Darcy’s without a doubt, but it did not have its characteristic strength in the strokes.  Something was wrong.

Lord Matlock studied his frown.   “Can you see through the paper or do you sense something already?”

“I hope I am just imagining something.”  Breaking the seal, he unfolded the pages.  Clearly the writing was laboured. 

10 January 1812

Pemberley

Dear Richard,

Please read this in privacy, as I will be mentioning subjects that must be kept to ourselves.
 

Richard looked up and met his father’s concerned gaze.  Deeming him a safe distance away, he read on.  “Good God.”  He whispered.  The story of the carriage accident was horrible enough, but adding to it the judge’s illness and concerns about Wickham, and the odd appearance of Christmas, the news fairly made his head spin. 

“What is it?”  Lord Matlock demanded.  “Let me see!”

“No.”  Richard folded the letter and tucked it inside of his uniform.  His face was very serious and he was thinking hard.  He agreed with Darcy’s supposition.  Christmas was not there by chance, but the odd addition of Wickham’s name opened a whole new line of curiosity.  Was this just worry on the part of a very ill man?  Bertie was certainly experiencing grand delusions in his state of withdrawal . . . Could Christmas have gleaned something during his visits to Darcy House?  If so, the man is dead and that is the end of it.  Darcy said that he would need to interview his staff there closely, but was clearly in no condition to travel soon.  Appearing at Longbourn for Mary’s wedding was his first goal; he was determined to take Elizabeth home to see her father before he died.  He asked Richard to begin the preliminary investigation upon his return to London if he could, and in the meantime, he and Samuel would open quiet inquiries about Christmas and just for the sake of it, Wickham’s presence in the area.  Lost in thought, he nodded to himself and jumped when his father slammed his hand on the desk to get his attention.  “Father!”

“I have been asking you questions for the past five minutes!  What the devil is wrong at Pemberley?  Why can I not see that letter?”

Richard paused and gathered his thoughts.  “You proposed a few minutes ago a plan for controlling my brother and making me the heir to the earldom, you thought that the plan was perfect as long as you breathed.  Well, my misgivings were just proven valid.  None of us can predict our last day on earth.”  He sat forward and leaned his elbows on his knees, “But Darcy and his family certainly can appreciate rising to breathe one more day.”

THREE DAYS AFTER THE ACCIDENT, Darcy looked up from the letter he was writing when the door to the bedchamber was opened and two footmen entered, carrying between them a square pianoforte.  “What is this?”  He asked as the small instrument was set down before the window.  A maid followed with a sheaf of sheet music and the trio quickly left the room.  Darcy set down his pen and stared at the instrument.  Elizabeth appeared and with her hands behind her back, lightly swayed into the room.  Her eyes were sparkling, and a slow smile spread across Darcy’s face at the sight of her.  At last she seemed to be returning to herself.  “What are you about, Mrs. Darcy?”

“We are celebrating.” 

“Oh?”  He watched as she closed up his lap desk and carried it far across the room.  “Lizzy, I was writing to Bingley.”

“Well he does not know that, so he may wait.”  She laughed and he tried not to.  Elizabeth returned to his side and sat on the edge of the bed.  “We are celebrating your sitting upright.”

“May the church bells toll out the joyous news.”  Darcy smiled and entwining his fingers in the curls around her face, tenderly kissed her. 

She traced the soft hair on his cheek  lightly and kissed each of the bruises.   “Every accomplishment deserves celebration.  Just wait until you see what I have planned for your first bath!” 

“Lizzy, I beg of you, please do not make me laugh.” 

Gently, she kissed his mouth, and feeling his lips seeking to deepen the embrace, touched his cheek and playfully kissed his nose.  “I thought that since you were so alert, you might enjoy some music?  I borrowed this from the servants’ hall, they were glad to make the loan.”

Darcy looked to the instrument and back to her eyes.  “You were haunting the kitchens again?” 

“You needed some shortbread.”

“Did I?”  He smiled and his eyes twinkled at her.  “I hardly knew.”

“Well you just needed someone to tell you.”  Elizabeth gladly nestled within his arms and spoke softly, “I thought I would sing for you.”

“Oh dearest, I would love that.”  Darcy rested his cheek on her head.  “It has been far too long since I have heard you.  And you will play, that is doubly wonderful!”

“No, 
I
will not play . . .”  She looked to the door and Darcy followed her gaze.  Georgiana entered nervously. 

“Georgiana?”  He smiled.  “You will play?”

“Elizabeth and I worked on a few songs together while you slept this morning.”  She said shyly and sat down at the instrument. 

Darcy’s face lit up and he looked from one lady to the other.  “Together?”  Georgiana watched the emotion appear in Darcy’s eyes as he held Elizabeth and sent a smile to her.  “How wonderful.”  He kissed Elizabeth when she let go and went to stand next Georgiana.  “I . . . I cannot wait to hear you together.  It is something that I have hoped for.”

“I am sorry, Fitzwilliam . . . I am sorry that it took nearly losing you to truly appreciate everything that you and Elizabeth have done for me.”  She looked down at the keyboard.  “I am so dense.”  When she heard Elizabeth laugh, she looked back up and saw her brother valiantly resisting joining her.  “Did I say something?”

“No . . .” Elizabeth returned Darcy’s warm gaze and then smiled at her sister.  “We have learned that lesson, too.”

Darcy rested back against the pillows.  “A lesson well worth learning, but there must be an easier way.” 

Chapter 34

“I
s there anything I can do sir?”  Bingley offered when Mr. Bennet finally finished another round of horrifying coughs.  He had not seen Mr. Bennet for nearly two months, and upon entering the bookroom, he immediately recognized the same signs that his father bore before he died.  The sight of Jane’s father so ill immediately dispelled the nerves he had been feeling only moments before.  “I know nothing of running an estate, well other than the little I was able to wring out of Darcy this past autumn, but I would be glad to aid in any way.  I am sure that Hurst would as well.  He has a bit of experience with these things . . .”

Mr. Bennet examined the sincere young man.  Not a word of his health had been spoken to anyone, not even to his family, but clearly it was not necessary.  The truth of his imminent death could no longer be hidden from anyone.  “My steward is doing fine, Mr. Bingley.  There is no need to prostrate yourself before me.  I have enough of that with the obsequious vulture sitting outside of my door.”  Coughing again, he mopped his pale brow with his handkerchief and drew a laboured breath. “No doubt my concerned heir is eager to urge me to my bed so that he might enjoy the warmth of my chair.  He will occupy it soon enough, but I will make him wait.  He is practised at stating opinions about the way he will operate Longbourn when he is master, and yet simultaneously apologizes for offending when he remembers that I can still hear him.”  The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable, even to Bingley.  “He asked that I let him remain here after the wedding to avoid his esteemed patroness’s displeasure with his choice of wife, well, I say, let him feel it.  He may be my heir, but I do not have to like him, nor do I have to accommodate his greedy fingers.  I still have reason to defy Charon and not board his boat across the river Styx.” 

Bingley hesitated; he was entirely unsure how to address the man and searched his memory for something worthwhile to say.  “Whether or not we accept the advice of our friends and family is a decision of our own free will.  They are welcome to give it, but we do not have to listen.”  Mr. Bennet looked at him with unhidden surprise and Bingley’s colour heightened.  “I was quoting something Darcy told me last autumn.  It has remained with me at times when I . . . feel uncertain of my future.”

“I see.  How fortunate you are to have a future to consider.”  Mr. Bennet clasped his hands over his belly and stared off into a corner.

“Sir, I meant no disrespect.  I tried to be of aid to my father when he was ill, but I was too young at the time.  He just told me to do well at school and that would be support enough for him.”

“And did you?” 

“I did my best, sir.”  Mr. Bennet grunted and moved his gaze to the window.  Bingley bit his lip.  “Perhaps you are wondering about the purpose of my visit, of course I am glad to visit Longbourn . . .”  Mr. Bennet’s eyes looked upwards and then turned pointedly to Bingley who received the unspoken message to get on with it.  “I wish to court Miss Bennet.”

“I would hope so; you brought her home with you in full view of the neighbourhood gossips and my wife has spoken of little else since she returned, much to the disappointment of Mary who actually
is
marrying a week from today.  I suppose that I cannot blame Mrs. Bennet for being preoccupied and wanting Jane settled as well.”  He glanced at Bingley.  “When do you intend to propose?”

“Propose?”  Bingley stared.  “Sir, I have no desire to rush headlong, I wish to take my time . . .”  

“I do not mean to frighten you, Mr. Bingley, but time is not something I have in abundance, despite my wishes to spite Mr. Collins.  My daughter will be in mourning before too long and with no engagement, you will not see her donning a wedding band for some time.  I suggest that you emulate your friend Darcy and rethink your lack of haste.”  He met his eye and took a drink from his glass of wine laced with laudanum.  “Get to courting sir, and leave me to my books.”  There was a knock at the door and Mrs. Hill entered with the post.  Bingley had not moved from his seat and he saw a marked improvement in the dying man’s countenance when he picked up one of the letters.  He even smiled.  “Lizzy.”  Without hesitation, he broke open the envelope.  Feeling dismissed, Bingley stood and began to leave.  “Good Lord.” 

“Sir?”  Bingley grew alarmed to see the shock in Mr. Bennet’s expression as his eyes rapidly moved across the page.  “Mr. Bennet, what is wrong, sir?”

His already pale features had become an even ghastlier shade of white.  “Mr. Bingley, have you heard from Mr. Darcy recently?”

“Darcy?  No, no, I . . .Well I had a letter from him a few weeks ago, saying that he and Mrs. Darcy expect to arrive on the 28
^th
for Miss Mary’s wedding and that they would happily accept my hospitality . . .”  He took the letter that Mr. Bennet extended to him and read Elizabeth’s description of the accident and Darcy’s injuries.  “Oh, no.”  Bingley rubbed his brow and sank down into a chair.  “I know precisely the spot where this happened.  That Darcy survived the fall is a miracle . . .” He looked to Mr. Bennet, “It is a sheer slope, I have stood there many a time.  It is a favourite location to take in the view of the manor and the gardens, but if you walk off the edge . . .” He sighed.  “He was doubly blessed, surviving the fall and then to have Mrs. Darcy looking for him.  She does not describe it here, but I can well imagine her fierce attention to him.  See how she leaves all praise to him for forcing her out of the carriage?”  Bingley pointed at a sentence and seeing Mr. Bennet was staring blankly across the room he kicked himself.  “Of course you are thinking of how she cheated death as well.”