Memory: Volume 3, How Far We Have Come, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (Memory: A Tale of Pride and Prejudice) (30 page)

“Sir?” 

“Bollocks!”  Darcy swore softly and blushed when Elizabeth’s eyes widened and her hand went to her mouth. Shaking his head, he kissed her.  “What is it Adams?”

“The gentlemen and ladies are here.”

“Bollocks.”  Elizabeth whispered in his ear. 

“Lizzy.”  He hissed.  “That is not a word for a lady!”

“It is hardly a word for a gentleman!  You have spent too much time with Peter, why you swear like a sailor!” 

“Just preparing for the match, love.”  He kissed her again, then called out.  “We will be right down.”

“Yes, sir.” 

They heard Adams move away and Darcy’s head tilted, his gaze sweeping over her and his hand, already beneath her skirt and caressing her leg, moved upwards.  “You wrote that you feel well, is that true?”

“Would I write it if it was not?”

“Possibly.”  He smiled when her brow arched and kissed it.  “If they were not downstairs . . .”

“What?” 

“You would find out, what.”  He growled and his hand drifted further.  “You are truly healed?” His voice became softer and his fingers caressed.  “Truly?”

“Yes, Will.”  Elizabeth kissed him tenderly.  “I need you, too.”

“I just will not feel right again until we have . . .” He shrugged and shook his head.  “This is not like the wait after Rosalie, I feel driven to . . .” Sighing he gave up, unable to express the need to be one with her to put the pain behind him. 

“We will make it right again.”  They kissed and she caressed his face when he sighed.  “Tonight.  Although . . .” She wiggled over him, making him groan, “You do present quite a target for the foils.  Be careful they do not sever your pride by mistake!”

“Elizabeth Darcy!   You speak like a tart!”   He cried.

She hopped to her feet and ran to the doorway, hung around the corner and laughed.  “Bollocks!”     

“WE SHOULD NOT SPEAK of such things!”  Mary said in an urgent whisper.  “It . . . We are not married.” 

“Dear Mary, it is a subject that must be addressed, before we are married.”  De Bourgh took her hand and smiled.  “And one that interests me greatly.  What do your sister and brother do?  Has Elizabeth spoken to you?”

“No, I have not wished to disturb her since . . . I will not discuss their arrangement.”

“Ah, so they do share a bed.”  He smiled and nodded when she gasped.  “And you are shocked?”

“Well, not so much anymore.”  Mary glanced up to see his eyes crinkle in amusement.

“How can you laugh?”

“How can you be affronted?  You love them deeply, how can their ideas for marriage be wrong?  Are they not your models?”

“Ohhhh.”  Mary crossed her arms over her chest and turned away from him, staring determinedly through the drawing room window at the garden behind Darcy House.  De Bourgh wasted no time wrapping his arms around her and kissing her cheek.  “Oh, this is nice.”  She sighed.  He laughed and squeezed, then turned her around to face him.  Gently he raised her chin and looked in her eyes.  “Yes.”

“Yes?  Did I ask a question?”

“Yes.”

“Mary.”  De Bourgh smiled and leaned down to kiss her then drawing her to his chest, kissed her deeply.

“Oh ho!”  Fitzwilliam cried when he wandered into the room.  “Well, look at this!” 

De Bourgh jumped and Mary’s face was crimson.  “Has nobody taught you to knock?”

“Has nobody taught you to close the door?” Fitzwilliam stood by it and demonstrated the proper motion.  “Tsk tsk, Darcy will have a fit . . .”

“Darcy can go hang himself.”  De Bourgh muttered.

“Peter!”

“Forgive me Mary, but this household is rife with spies!  I will have to take you away from here to get a moment of peace!”

“Well,” Fitzwilliam rubbed his chin, “four weeks from now, you will do just that.”

“Four weeks.”  De Bourgh groaned.  “It is too long.”

“It is too short.”  Mary sighed.  “I never realized how much trouble a wedding would cause.  The shopping, the planning . . . Lizzy has such a grand breakfast planned for me.”

“No doubt my mother has her stealthy hand in this.”  Fitzwilliam laughed.  “You saw what she did for Elizabeth and Darcy’s affair; she had what, days to plan?  I remember the staff, chickens with their heads cut off, the whole lot of them!” 

“Wonderful imagery, Richard.”  Layton appeared and looked over the company.  “Where are our wives?”

“I have mine.”  De Bourgh smiled at Mary and she blushed again.  “Well, soon.”

“I should go and see what is keeping everyone.”  She glanced at de Bourgh and escaped the room. 

He looked after her and did not refocus until Fitzwilliam cleared his throat and finally clapped him hard on the back, forcing him to step forward to remain upright.  “There you go, frozen in place, you were!” 

“I do not need your help.”  De Bourgh glared.

“My mistake.” 

“Where is Darcy?”

“Father has him.”  Fitzwilliam sobered. “They had some things to discuss.”

“The journals.”

“Yes, I guess that Darcy has been making a study of them since he dug them out.”  He lifted his chin to de Bourgh.  “Has he said anything to you about it?”

“No.”  He crossed his arms and leaned on the back of a sofa.  “What journals?

“His father kept them, beginning with his time at university to his death.  The ones from the years of his marriage were left here; the ones after Aunt Anne died are at Pemberley.  Darcy said that his father’s experiences and insight after losing the children have been very helpful to him.”

“Getting over it?”  Layton nodded.

“Not just that, he seems to be understanding things that his father told him, lessons that suddenly make sense now, but besides that, there are references to . . . well I do not know, but it is a journey of discovery for him and as Father is the only elder to discuss this with, who might have a clue . . .”

“Darcy is focussing on a mystery rather than the loss of the baby, ‘tis all.”  Layton said softly.  “Uncle Darcy was not remiss in telling Darcy every detail of Pemberley.”  Seeing his brother’s doubtful expression, he shrugged.  “Not that he couldn’t discover secrets about his family in the journals.  Perhaps that is the good thing from the loss; he was driven to consult his father’s words and learned something in the process.”

“Perhaps.”   Fitzwilliam rocked back and forth on his boots and stuck his head out in the corridor when he heard the sound of ladies’ voices.  “Ah, the birds are singing.”

“You sound far too much like Father, him and his pretty feathers.”  Layton laughed and cocked a brow at de Bourgh.  “What has you smiling so widely?”

“Hmm?”  de Bourgh straightened and sniffed.  “Nothing at all.”

“Imagining
his
bird, I should think.”  Fitzwilliam winked.

“All right boys,” Lord Matlock entered and rubbed his hands together, “the ladies are off on their shopping trip, and from the looks of things I am just in time to separate you two before you start landing punches.”   He looked between de Bourgh and Fitzwilliam.  “What this time?”

“He insulted Mary.” 

“Did not.”

“No, he called her pretty, if I am not mistaken.”  Layton leaned against the doorframe and folded his arms.  “What do you think, Darcy?”

“I did not hear it, but if either one of you said anything untoward about my sister, I am afraid that I will have to defend her honour.  And win.”  He smiled widely and was met by laughter and hands clapped on his back. 

“Good to see you alive again, Cousin.”  Fitzwilliam grinned.  “I have missed your sorry voice.”

“Thank you.”  He smiled.  “Where is Lucas?”

“In the ball room, I suspect, trying to get a head start.  Our wives would kill us if they knew we were going to be duelling.”

“Elizabeth knows, but she will not give you away, as long as we can be dressed and look fairly clean by the time they return, we will be fine.”

“Helen would strangle me.”  Lord Matlock murmured as they walked to the back of the house, past the billiards room to the wide open space of the ballroom. 

“How many foils do you own, Darcy?”  Layton looked over the fine collection with awe.  “These are magnificent!”

“I suppose it was my one vice. I collected a few of them on the continent, won a few, inherited a few . . .” He picked one up.  “But this is my favourite.”

“Simple.”  Lord Matlock took it in hand, feeling the balance and slicing the air, and looked at his nephew.  “Exceptional.”

“Father’s.”  He smiled and took it back.  “A gift upon graduation.”

“Well then, shall we?”  Lord Matlock smiled at Layton, who was already without his coat.  “Eager, Son?”

“Scared to death.”  Layton looked at Lucas.  “How long since you fenced?”

“Cambridge.”

“You fight me, then.  We will be even.”

“Ahhh, and that leaves we three.”  Fitzwilliam smiled at de Bourgh and Darcy.

“Ahem.”  Lord Matlock took off his coat and started unbuttoning his waistcoat.  “I will take on any one of you boys.”

“Father . . .” 

“You first.”  Lord Matlock pointed and removed his shirt, then picked up a foil, swinging it around while he limbered up.  “Or are you frightened of your old papa, Richard?”

“No, sir.”  Fitzwilliam glanced at Darcy who was smiling at his boots, and started unbuttoning his uniform as bets began to be laid.  “I want some of that.”   He called. 

“Are you certain?   Your soldier’s salary . . .”

“Your baiting me will not help when it is your turn to face me, Darcy.”  Fitzwilliam growled.

“Oh, but you will be beaten by your Father.”  Darcy snorted.

“And you, near Brother, will go down by me.”  De Bourgh stretched and pulled off his shirt.  “I have a bone to pick with you.”

Darcy grinned.  “Just wait until it is your daughters, and I will laugh at you.”

“Good Lord.”  The six men turned to find Bingley at the door.  “What is going on here?”

“Do you fence?”  Layton demanded.

“Well, yes . . .” He said cautiously.

“Good!”  Lucas tossed him a foil and he barely caught it.  “You can be the tie breaker.”

“I am going to die.”  Bingley whispered, and shaking his head, added his money to the pot and started removing his clothes.  “Serves me right, come here for a little advice and what does it get me?”

“Advice?”  Fitzwilliam grinned.  “Female?”

“What else is left to him?”  Layton glanced his way and took a position opposite Lucas. 

“Speak up, Bingley!”  Lord Matlock called.  “En garde!”  He stepped forward and took Fitzwilliam unawares. 

“Father!” 

Lord Matlock laughed.  “Wake up, boy!” 

“HAVE WE ORDERED ENOUGH?”  Mary said wearily and sank back down onto the sofa in the private showroom at Madame Dupree’s. 

“Oh, no.”  Elizabeth smiled and handed her a cup of tea.  “You are to be mistress of a great estate, I am afraid that you must dress the part.”

“But I do not expect to be seen that much.”

“Lizzy!”  Kitty appeared with a salesgirl holding a bolt of fabric.  “Look at this!” 

She sat up and examined the rich silk and lifted her brow.  “It is lovely.”

“I will be seventeen in August . . .” She looked at her hopefully.  “Could we order some new things now?” 

“It would be so much fun!”  Georgiana cried.

“No.”  Elizabeth shook her head.  “Not today.”

“Why?”  Kitty’s voice had a slight whine to it and Elizabeth, Mary, Jane, and Lady Matlock all fixed her with disapproving stares.  Immediately she blushed.  “Forgive me.  This is Mary’s shopping trip, I was being selfish.”

“Yes, you were.”  Lady Matlock nodded.  “I am glad to see that you corrected yourself.  I would hate that your brother’s good money had been wasted at this
Eton for girls
you are attending.”

“Yes, Lady Helen.”  She hung her head and the salesgirl with the fabric disappeared.  “I should just be happy for the day out.”  She sat down and clasped her hands in her lap and Georgiana sat beside them.  “Thank you for inviting us.  Lydia sent a letter asking if we would go shopping with Mary for her wedding clothes.  I thought you would start right away, but when we did not hear anything, we thought that you would go without us.”

“The last week has been very busy, I am afraid.”  Elizabeth said softly.  Jane squeezed her hand and Mary smiled at her.  “But all is calm now.”

“Did you attend lots of balls?”  Georgiana asked.  “We have learned so many wonderful dances, but it is rather dull dancing amongst ourselves.”

“Your time for dancing will come soon enough.  Perhaps next season you may attend some private balls.”  Lady Matlock looked at Elizabeth.  “Not to dance, but to be seen.”

“Oh I do not anticipate Fitzwilliam’s reaction to that notion.”  Elizabeth smiled.  “He is protective enough over you, Mary.” 

“Will he protect me, too?”  Kitty asked.

“Of course he will.”  Elizabeth laughed.  “And you will probably bemoan it when it happens.”

“What else did Lydia say in her letter?”  Jane asked and moved out of the way as another gown was carried in for Mary to try on. 

“She said she was getting on well with the girls, and Miss Edwards said if she continues to improve, she will give her some responsibilities next year if she returns.”  Kitty watched as a lavender confection was slipped over Mary’s head.  “Oh that is beautiful!”

“Peter will love that.”  Elizabeth smiled approvingly. 

Evangeline and Alicia appeared at the doorway of the crowded room.  “Oh Mary, that is just the shade for you!  Is that your wedding dress?”

“I . . .no, I was going to wear blue.”  She looked around.  “Is this better?”

“Has Peter ever expressed a preference for the colours you wear?”

“All of them.”  Mary bit her lip and they all laughed. 

“I love seeing a man so lost.”  Alicia smiled.  “I wonder at this meeting of the men that is happening at your home, Elizabeth.  What were they up to, Lady Helen?”

She studied Elizabeth’s pursed lips and said slowly, “I have no idea, Henry was eager to arrive and even more eager to wave us farewell.  They are undoubtedly up to no good.”  She looked Mary over.  “A lower neckline, I think, dear.”

“Oh . . .no!”

“Elizabeth?”