Imperative: Volume 2, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (89 page)

“What of the vase!  I should be paid for that!”

“You said that it was inferior?”

“I . . . I . . .”

“And you also signed a contract . . .” Ferguson pulled out a folded paper tied with a ribbon.  “Ah here it is, you agreed that any damage to property left in the house is not the owner’s responsibility.” 

Walker glanced at the contract, saw his signature and grunting, quickly signed off on the statement and left the room, stomping down the hallway and out the door to his waiting carriage. 

“Oh Mr. Ferguson, he is most unhappy.” 

Ferguson folded up the papers and retied the ribbon.  “Good.”

“He talked of Miss Cargill; he must have heard something of her in the village.”

“I would like to know who gave her name there.”  Ferguson looked at her pointedly.  “That is the Darcys’ business, she was a sweet girl in trouble and they took care of her.  I have nothing but respect for them, and for the elder Darcys for accepting the child to raise.  I hope that Miss Cargill can go on to lead a happy life.”  Slipping the papers into a valise, he nodded to her.  “As Mr. Darcy said to me in his last letter, as far as Sommerwald is concerned, this is the end of it.”

“I KNEW IT!”  Lady Catherine cried.  Quickly, she glanced around the empty gallery and opened her reticule to retrieve her spectacles.  Holding them up to her eyes, she bent forward and examined the portrait of her sister from the time of her coming out.  The famous rubies encircled her throat, but that was not the subject of the Grande Dame’s scrutiny.  She stared at her sister’s hand resting on the back of a chair, or rather the ring on her finger.  “It
is
Anne’s ring!   I knew that I could not be mistaken!  A Fitzwilliam heirloom, on the hand of a minister’s wife!  Misplaced indeed, Fitzwilliam Darcy, it was stolen and you are protecting some servant!” 

“Aunt, what are you shrieking about?”  Cathy looked into the long room and responding to her namesake’s waving hand, joined her at the portrait.  “What is it?”

She fixed a cold eye upon her.  “A lady does not shriek.”

“Do they bellow?” She unflinchingly met her eye, “What is wrong?” 

“Hmmph.”  Slamming her walking stick upon the floor, the sound echoed around them.  “This ring!  It was my sister’s, and now somehow my minister has acquired it.  This is intolerable.  I will not have it!”

“Does Fitzwilliam know?”  Cathy’s eyes involuntarily swept up to the rubies. 

“He says it was misplaced.”  Lady Catherine huffed.  “It was stolen. And he is excusing some servant for filching it.  I warned Mrs. Darcy of this, I heard her laughing with her maid one morning.  They are servants, not your friends.  She is far too companionable with them.  That girl is likely the one who took the ring; she has access to the jewel box.”

Cathy spoke cautiously, “That is a serious accusation.  She could be imprisoned or sent to Australia for such an offence.” 

“She could be hung.”  Lady Catherine said with a satisfied nod.  “Anne has seen the ring; I will have her take a look at the painting.  If she confirms it, I will know what to do.”

“What will you do?”  Cathy asked with wide eyes.

“I will go to Pemberley and confront the wretch!  Let her confess before Darcy!  The judge can be there to hear it all and he will know where to take her.”

“But Aunt, perhaps it
was
misplaced or lost, rather.”

“Are you defending a thief?”  Lady Catherine stared. 

“No, Aunt.  I . . . I just . . .” She looked at the rubies and to the ring.  “Why do we not ask Anne her opinion before you become more upset?  You saw how Elizabeth reacted to Mrs. Kelly talking about rumours; do you really want to hear what she will say to you about this?” 

Lady Catherine said nothing as she considered Elizabeth’s likely response to her meddling.  “Fine then, I will consult Anne.  Where is she?”  She looked to the doorway and back at her niece.  “Well?”

“I saw her out on the lawn with Albert about a half hour ago.  They were walking together.”  Cathy watched the frown on her aunt’s face become a little less severe.

“Were they?”  Lady Catherine took a deep breath through her nose and looked back at the portrait.  “Well then, I suppose that this Anne can wait.  There is no need to disturb them.”  Lady Catherine’s critical eye rested upon her niece.  “Now then, what are you doing to find a husband?”

“Aunt, please.”  Cathy said tiredly.  “I would like one day to pass where I am not faced with that question.”

She swept on, “You did notice that the Kelly men were far more interested in Georgiana than you.”

“I know, I know, I am old!”  She cried and glared at Anne Darcy.  “Why could you not have two sons!” 

“You would not have wanted her younger son.  He would have been a clergyman or soldier like your brother.  A physician, perhaps.”  She said thoughtfully.  “A barrister would be fine.  I always admired Judge Darcy.  Such a strong man would suit you well, I think.”

“You are telling me to lower my sights.”  Cathy said quietly.  “No peer, no wealthy landowner . . . A tradesman’s son?”

“We have not sunk that low.”  Lady Catherine sniffed.  “Samuel Darcy has potential and he could follow his father’s footsteps, but by then you will be far too old.   I think that there must be a man with a smaller estate for you.  That Kelly boy, the eldest . . .”

“He never looked at me.  His eyes were elsewhere.”

“Georgiana is far too young for him.”  Lady Catherine pronounced.  Cathy said nothing.  “Is there not one man you danced with who is suitable?  Who your family could accept?  Matlock’s name is improving; there is no need to shoot low.  Think!”  Lady Catherine demanded.  “Did one try to further the acquaintance and you brushed him off?” 

“Well . . .”  Cathy sighed and thought of the scores of young men who she had discouraged and at last thought of one who had really tried, and had remained unattached at the Season’s end.  “Mr. Manning.  Mr. Roger Manning.”

“Manning?”  Lady Catherine tilted her head.  “Darcy travelled with a young Manning on his tour, just before his father died.  His family is known to yours, and he is already friends with Darcy . . .”

Recalling their dance, she nodded, “He spoke fondly of meeting them at an inn while his family was travelling to London and Fitzwilliam was going to Scotland.” 

Lady Catherine stuffed her spectacles back into her bag.  “Come, we will speak to your mother.  Your father will invite Mr. Manning and his family for some sport . . . no, better yet, the Darcys are to hold a ball in September.  I will write to Mrs. Darcy and ask that she invite the Mannings.  You will be staying there as well and will not appear desperate if you meet at Pemberley as another guest.  This will be your opportunity.”  Looking her over critically from head to toe, she nodded.  “Do not waste it!” 

“HOW ARE YOU?”  Elizabeth joined Georgiana in her father’s old reading room and settling in the window seat, looked to where her sister sat with mementos scattered around her.  “Mrs. Annesley told me about your talk.” 

Georgiana glanced up and spoke from where her head rested on her knees.  “I suppose that is a good thing, to have a companion who tells you everything, instead of Mrs. Younge who said nothing at all.” 

“We want you to have confidence in your relationship with her.  I think that if you confided in her and it was not something that she felt we needed to know, she would keep it to herself.”

“But you want to know everything.”

“No, I do not.  And although your brother would claim otherwise, he really does not want to know everything either, particularly if it involves the handsome qualities of some young man.”  Elizabeth smiled but Georgiana did not.  “Yes, one day you will find a young man handsome.”

“But will he find me the same, once he knows?” 

“I do not know.  But it would be wrong not to tell him.”

“But would he . . . tell everyone else?”  Georgiana looked up at her. 

“Well . . .” Elizabeth slid down to the floor beside her.  “That is where your brother will make the decision.  If the young man is sincere, if he is trustworthy, if he goes to Fitzwilliam and tells him his intentions . . .” Georgiana buried her face on her knees.  “I cannot see him telling a suitor on the second visit what happened.”

“But is it wrong to lead him on?”

Thoughtfully, Elizabeth looked up at the portraits that hung above the fireplace and studied Darcy’s younger self.  “Perhaps we will have to probe his opinion on things before they go very far, as I was doing with your aunts at Matlock.  Now we know for certain that we did the right thing in keeping it a secret, at least as much as we could.”

“Oh Elizabeth!”  Georgiana started to cry.  “Please, just let me stay here!  I will be the most wonderful aunt for your children.  Please do not make me go to London!” 

“Hush.”  Elizabeth put her arm around her sister and hugged her.  “Going to London does not mean you are marrying tomorrow.  Look at Cathy, she is five and twenty!  Is she any closer to marrying today than she was ten years ago?”  Georgiana looked up and shook her head.  “Very well then, she is proof that sleeping in a London townhouse does not necessarily make you a bride.  We just want you to take advantage of everything your position allows.  Fitzwilliam has already written to music and dance masters.  What other talents would you like to learn?  Your sewing is excellent after all of the baby clothes you have made.  We talked about improving your artwork, did we not?”  She pointed at the drawings hanging on the wall.  “Have you studied since you made those for your father?”

“No, only the pianoforte.”  She wiped her eyes and looked at her drawings.  “Those are terrible.”

“Your father loved them.  Look!  Pride of place!”  Elizabeth smiled. 

Georgiana’s eyes moved to the empty spot on the wall.  “Do you still have George’s portrait?”

“Yes.”  Elizabeth looked up at the spot beside Darcy’s miniature. 

“I defended him before Aunt Grace and Aunt Catherine.  What does that mean?”  Georgiana looked at her sister.

“You defended Hope’s father.  That is different from defending him.”   Elizabeth smiled.  “Do you wonder where he is, and what he is doing?”

“Sometimes.  Is that wrong?”

“No, he was a significant person in your life.”

“To say the least.”  Georgiana smiled sadly and Elizabeth brushed back her hair.  “I am glad that I have you to talk to now.”

“I am glad that you feel comfortable with me.” 

“I see how you and Fitzwilliam talk about everything, even when you are upset or angry, you do not keep things from each other.” 

Elizabeth said nothing for a few moments.  “Well, when we do, things seem to go awry.”  Hearing the front door opening and the heavy, familiar tread of Darcy’s boots across the marble floor, both women looked to the door and stood.  “Excuse me.”  Elizabeth said in a whisper, and was gone.

IF SHE IS WITH CHILD, then she will be a different woman.  Not in essentials, mind you, but you will see the changes.  You mention that she cries with no provocation and is perpetually sleepy.  Mrs. Gardiner was always ill and suffered pains in her back, and was forever in search of a chamber pot. And on occasion, I did not recognize the nonsensical woman who appeared.   Each woman is unique, each pregnancy is unique.  I cannot tell you if it is true, Darcy.  I can only share your hope.  Elizabeth has confided nothing to my wife, only her questions posed that one day while we visited gave her aunt any inkling that her thoughts were on the subject.  I fear that my niece is going to remain the obstinent girl you fell in love with, and will not dare to hope she has your child in her belly.  She needs proof.  Mrs. Gardiner is of the opinion that she desires it so much she could not bear the pain of it not being true.  She loves you so much that she cannot bear to disappoint you.  I leave it to you, Son.  If it were I, and this was my first child, I would try my best to contain my excitement, for her sake.  One day she will come to you with joy in her eyes, and you will be free to celebrate.  Until then, wait, hope, tolerate her tears and pray that she will stay awake long enough for you to come to completion, at least once in a while.  I promise you, as the pregnancy wears on, there will come a time when it is she who is chasing after you.

Darcy read the last with disbelief.  “Begging me to love her?”  A smile flashed across his face and then it became sheepish.  “I have never needed more than a crooked finger wagged in my direction . . . A finger, not even that, a glance!  A smile, a . . . a . . . heaven help me when she is walking . . .” His hand rubbed over his face as he thought of that morning, “I have been most glad to satisfy us both, but to have Elizabeth begging me . . .” Darcy closed his eyes and imagined the sight of his wife performing all manner of wanton acts upon his person and nearly groaned.  “Lizzy, I am aching for you.  After this morning . . . you gave a wolf a taste, dearest.  Five minutes.  It is all I ask for . . .” His hand flexed and he started when Parker entered the dressing room with his freshly pressed shirt.   

“Was it as you feared, sir?”  Parker asked as he took Darcy’s riding clothes and set them aside for cleaning.  “There was no uprising?”

Instantly, he was brought back to reality, “No, no, it was . . . Nobody came after us with pitchforks, but understandably there was a great deal of concern, and I know that it will only grow.   This was only the first day.”  He rubbed his hand over his face tiredly.  “So many questions.  Will I buy more machines, when, will they be trained on them, will there be positions for the displaced workers . . . will their wages rise when my profits increase.”  He closed his eyes.  “They asked questions that I shamefully had not considered and was left floundering.  I did my best.”

“I have no doubt of that, and it is more than any other master would do.  He would introduce the machines and not give a thought to those who have loyally served his family for generations.  It is not shameful to not know all of the answers.  You do not live as they, so how could you possibly imagine what they would find important?”  Parker handed him the shirt and watched it slip over his head.  Darcy reappeared and was lost in thought.  “I am surprised that Mrs. Darcy has not thought of things for you to say.  She is so good speaking with the staff, sir.  She is empathetic when needed, and . . . well, you saw her with Mrs. Shaw.”