Imperative: Volume 1, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (127 page)

“You look quite well, and Mr. Darcy . . . nearly resembles how I remembered him.”

Elizabeth smiled.  “That is a kind way of putting it.  I know that I see him with different eyes than others do.”  She squeezed her hand.  “How are you?”

Charlotte smiled sadly.  “Terrible.  I know what is behind Mama’s spitefulness.  My parents and brothers despair of my ever marrying and I have become quite resigned to that.  Mr. Collins was a glimmer of hope in a very stark landscape.”  She looked to where the little man bobbed up and down next to Mary while shoving a piece of cake in his mouth.  “I suppose that Mr. Bingley and Jane are a foregone conclusion?”

“I am afraid it is only a matter of time.”  Elizabeth smiled when Charlotte sighed.  “If we were to remain in London I would have you come stay with us.”

“And put me in the path of rich men?”   She nodded at Mrs. Bennet.

“Well at least it would give me practice for when my younger sisters are old enough.”  The two women smiled and Elizabeth looked across the room.  “Who is that?” 

Charlotte looked around the guests and spotted the man she indicated. “Oh, that is Mr. Pool; he is clerking for your uncle.  He is very nice, but quite shy.  We met at the Assembly at Christmas.”

Elizabeth’s head tilted.  “He seems quite mature.”

“He is not an apprentice.”  Charlotte laughed when she saw Elizabeth’s brows rising pointedly.  “How do you know he is not married?”

“Is he?” 

“No . . .”

“Do you like the look of him?  Is he interested in anyone?”

“Yes and . . . not that I know of . . .”

“And why exactly are you speaking to me?”  Elizabeth put her hand on her friend’s back.  “Come on, introduce me.”

“But . . .”  Charlotte stared.

“Introduce me, I will say something witty and will fade into the ether, leaving you to conduct business.” 

“Eliza you are terrible!”  Charlotte gasped and laughed. 

Elizabeth stopped and turned to her.  “You started blushing as soon as I pointed him out.  You like him.”

“Well, yes . . .”

“And he has been peeking at you the whole time that we have been talking!”  Charlotte’s eyes widened and her cheeks reddened further.  “I would much rather see you settled in a match of felicity than convenience.  But since you have feelings you are becoming shy.  That will not do, look at how it held up Jane and Mr. Bingley!”  Elizabeth took her hand and dragged Charlotte along. “Grab him before someone else does.  He is clerking for Uncle, so he might very well take his place one day.  It is time to see you put all of those wise bits of advice on finding a man into operation.” 

“Oh heavens!” 

Darcy watched his wife and his lips twitched.  He had admired the Mistress of Pemberley taking on Lady Lucas, and now,
Her sparkle is back.  Poor man, I hope that you are . . . ahhhh.
  Elizabeth’s eyes were lit up as she was introduced to her uncle’s flustered new clerk. 
A witty remark . . . a beautiful smile . . . a firm shove to Miss Lucas . . . and it is done.
  His eyes twinkled as Elizabeth walked across the room with her hands behind her back.  “You look pleased with yourself, dearest.” 

“I did not do a thing.  They were watching each other, and I have never seen her so flustered.”  She fussed with his neck cloth.  “How are you feeling?”

“I am fine.”  He chuckled as her assessing eye took him in.  “I am.  Have you made a decision about staying longer?”

“I want to say goodbye to Papa, and then we can leave for London.”  Her smile faded and they looked over to Mr. Bennet who had risen to his feet and was receiving a peck on the cheek from Mary and Collins’s solemn handshake.  “It seems that Mary is leaving.” 

“Yes.”  He watched them making the rounds of the room.  “I am sure that they are watching the snow.  They should not delay; it will be a long journey to Kent.  And it seems that the party will break up soon.”  He took her hands.  “Would you like to remain, and say goodbye to everyone?  And just be alone with your family for a while?  I will return to Netherfield with Bingley and Hurst, and leave you our carriage.  We can go to London in the morning.  Of course, we will stop again on the way home . . .”

“No we will go straight home.”  She drew a deep breath.  “I want to remember Longbourn this way, on a day of joy.  That will sustain me when . . . when we are away and cannot return.” 

“Very well.”  He nodded and refrained from drawing her into his arms.  Instead he took her hand and caressed his thumb over her ring.  “I leave it to you.” 

Jane and Bingley completed their farewells and best wishes to the newlyweds and catching each other’s eyes, blushed.  “It was a lovely wedding.” 

“And your mother certainly put on a spectacular breakfast.”  He waved his hand towards the dining room and the decimated table of empty platters and bowls.  “Not a crumb fit for a mouse remains.”  He looked around and taking her elbow, he guided her into the empty dining room.  “Let us go see what remains.”

Jane gasped, “You cannot still be hungry!  I saw you polish off three plates!”

“I am still growing!”  Bingley protested.

“You will resemble your brother soon if you are not careful.”  Jane whispered and giggled when his eyes widened.  “Forgive me, but look at Mr. Hurst!”  Hurst was asleep in a corner by the fire, his hands resting contentedly over his belly.

“I will bet you a shilling he is pretending.” 

“No!”  Jane gasped.  “Why?”

“Because he admires your mother’s fine table, but not necessarily the company.  Look there, poor Darcy staring into the fire all alone.  Your sister must have abandoned him, otherwise he would be hovering by her side trying to keep his hands to himself.” 

“Mr. Darcy would be so embarrassed to hear you say that!”

“No, he would not, it would make him smile.”  Bingley laughed.  “You have not seen them together as much as I have.”

“Well, nonetheless, we should join him . . .”

“Oh, no, no, no.”  Bingley guided her through the dining room and into an empty parlour, and closed the door.  Jane stared.  “Now.”  Bingley drew a breath, let it out, began pacing in a circle around the room, ran his hand through his hair and at last looked up to see Jane standing with her eyes cast down to the floor.  “Oh Jane, please look up.”

“I cannot.”

“Why?”

“Because I am . . . stupid.”

“That is ridiculous, I am the stupid one.  Everyone says so.  Well no, that is not quite it either.  Spineless maybe?”  He rubbed his hand through his hair again and shrugged when she gaped at him.  “I cannot see it myself, but then one does not generally describe oneself as stupid.” 

“I just did.”  She smiled.

Bingley laughed.  “So you did!”  He stepped forward and took her hands in his.  “Jane Bennet.  I find you lovely, and sweet, and . . . you make me behave idiotically and, well quite honestly, I do not wish to find out how much more ridiculous I can become while waiting for you to . . . stop being so shy.”  Jane blushed.  He touched her face and she looked up to him.  “I was told some very useful information just yesterday.”  He drew up his shoulders and focussed on the speech he had rehearsed all night.  “I understand that you feel the burden of being the eldest child when your father is dying.  I was not the eldest, but I
was
the heir.  You feel like you have to take care of everyone and honour others’ wishes in order to do your duty, and of course you put yourself last.  If I had not stopped listening to my sisters, I would still be in London now, despite your wonderful visit.  I am grateful that my friends gave advice but told me to follow my heart.”  He sighed and shook his head, giving up his practiced words.  “What I am trying to say is; would you not prefer to face your future with someone by your side instead of alone?”

“Of course.”  She whispered.  “I just am afraid that . . . someone would regret becoming involved.”

“Well . . . if that someone is me, I think that you should not be afraid.    Will you regret becoming involved with a man who has such a difficult sister?” 

“Mr. Bingley!”

“We both have trials to bear.”  He smiled and Jane put her hand to her mouth and laughed.  “May I finally say that I love you?”

“Oh!”  Her eyes grew wide and instantly she blushed.

He laughed and touched her warm cheek.  “And that I want to marry you?”

“Yes.”  She whispered.

“Yes to marrying me?”

“Yes.”  She gasped when she found herself in his arms.  “Mr. Bingley!”

“Do you love me?”  He asked hopefully.

“Yes, I do.” 

Bingley squeezed the air out of her and while she was gasping, he beamed.  “And now, Miss Bennet.  I am going to kiss you.  Brace yourself; I may be at it for some time.” 

“WHERE IS IT?”  Wickham muttered to himself.  Jamming a knife into the floorboards of the room he once occupied in the boarding house formerly maintained by Mrs. Younge, he tried to pry one loose.  “Nailed down!”  He cursed and sitting back on his heels, stared around the room.  The furniture had been rearranged and he could not remember how it had looked before.  “It must still be here, if I cannot find it, nobody else would.”  Determined, he began crawling around until he heard a creak when his hand rested on board.  “Aha!”  Working quickly, he pried it up and there, to his great relief, was the leather bag he had secreted months earlier.  He lifted it out and replacing the board, dumped the contents on the bed.  “Two-hundred pounds!”  He said gleefully as relief flooded over him.  “Two-hundred pounds.  Two years of work as Darcy’s clergyman.”  He lay back in the bed and stared upwards to the ceiling.  “I could make that last for a long time . . . or I could lose it all in one night.  I have done it before.” 

Sitting up, he placed five pounds worth of coins in his stolen purse, and putting the rest of it back in the bag, shoved it under the floorboard again.  “There.  Now, I need a drink and I need to think.” 

 “WHAT DID YOU THINK of the whole event?”  Mr. Bennet coughed and sat down in his chair. 

“It was a wedding, much like any other, but I believe that there is hope for felicity, if not today than in the future.”  Elizabeth arranged a few pillows around him and poured out some wine. 

“If that is the case, I am glad that things worked out as they did.”  He murmured and Elizabeth did not look away.  “Your husband was a great aide to me today.  I did not have the opportunity to thank him.”

“He did not do it expecting thanks, Papa.  He did it because he is very kind.”

Mr. Bennet grunted and looked out of the window at the Darcy coach.  “He left you behind?”

“He needed to rest and he wanted me to take my time saying goodbye.  We will leave early tomorrow.” 

“I see.  And you will not be back again, will you?”  Their eyes met.  “No, you will not.  So these are to be our final minutes together.”  He swallowed and wiping his eyes, he nodded.  “Fine, yes, it is as it should be, no . . . no sitting by my bed, holding my hand as we await the death rattle to come to my throat, just a clean farewell and move on . . .”

“Papa, why do you wish to waste this time on nonsense?”  Elizabeth asked softly.  “I grew up admiring you; do you truly want to leave it with heaps of guilt on my shoulders?  If that is your aim, I will go now, and throw it off at the door.  I prefer to spend this time just talking.”

“Yes, of course.  I . . . I suppose it has become a habit of mine.”  He blinked his watery eyes and looked around the room as if searching for a subject.

“Before I married, you told me so many stories of the family.  Were there any others that you wished I had known?”

“No, I . . . I gave you those as your wedding gift.”  He sniffed and blew his nose.  “I . . .  do have something for you . . . something that I do not want Collins to have, and . . . I doubt that anyone else will want.”  He opened a desk drawer and drew out the family Bible.  “The . . . Bennet family dies with me, the name anyway.  You are Darcy, Mary is now Collins, and I suspect that Mr. Bingley will be visiting at sunrise tomorrow . . .”  He handed the tattered book over and she hugged it to her chest.  “All of the . . . notes and stories from your ancestors are in there.  I wrote down a few of our family after you married.”  He fiddled with the tail of his neck cloth.  “I . . . I know that you probably live in a mansion and you have this great family now as yours, but . . . perhaps you might crack that open sometime and . . . show my . . . grandchildren that they are not . . . that they have some humble blood in their veins.”  He swallowed and sniffed.  “At least . . . at least with Mary here, a little of our blood will remain.”

“Are you certain that this should not stay with her?”  Elizabeth wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. 

“No.  Mary . . . I can see that she will be a good wife to Collins.  She will . . . she will be proud of him and his . . . whatever that fool brings here.  Mary thoroughly believes that she is entirely possessed by her husband now.  You, Lizzy, you appreciate your past.  You will not forget.”  He bit his lip.  “I did not lie when I said that I wanted you to have Longbourn because you loved it so much.” 

“I know.  I believed that.  You said it because you loved me.”

“Good.”  He nodded and wiped his nose.  “Good.”  Sniffing again he met her eyes.  “Do you feel well?”

“Yes, Papa.  Just very tired.”

“And your husband, he seems . . . tired, too?” 

“He is much better.” 

“Good, good.”  He looked back down to his neck cloth. 

“I am loved, Papa.  Very, very, much.”   Elizabeth said softly.  “And I love him; I cannot describe the fullness of my heart.”

He nodded.  “Did he . . . ever say why, why it was so important that he needed to marry you?”  Mr. Bennet searched her eyes.  “Why so quickly?”

“Yes.”  She smiled.  “But that is between us.” 

“We could make a game of it, guessing?”  He smiled a little.

“What would be the prize?”  She felt her eyes welling up.

“Just the sport of it would be enough.”  He held open his arms and Elizabeth came around the desk and held him while they both cried.  Eventually he let go and pushed her away, taking his handkerchief back to his eyes.  “Go on.  Go home to your good husband.  Give him many sons.”