Memory: Volume 3, How Far We Have Come, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (Memory: A Tale of Pride and Prejudice) (43 page)

“Ladies, this is a surprise, welcome, it is so . . . Why Mrs. Robinson.”  Elizabeth stood calmly and clasped her hands.  “What brings you here?”

“I come . . . to . . .” She glanced around, seeing all eyes on her.  “I . . .”

“Mama!”  The ladies all turned to see the baby at Elizabeth’s feet.  She bent and lifted her up. 

“Hello Rosa.”  She smiled at her.  “Come and meet the ladies.”  She looked at the surprised women.  “My daughter and I were just going to the music room when I saw you approaching, but I will save that for later.  Please come up to my drawing room and we may enjoy some tea.”

“She is beautiful, Mrs. Darcy!  Blue eyes and dark hair, I have a grandson . . .” The women walked past her and started up the stairs. 

Elizabeth remained at the door and saw the two footmen standing behind Caroline. “Is there something wrong, Mrs. Robinson?  It seems that your servants want your attention.”

“Madam, we must . . .”

“I am . . .” Caroline looked backwards and then stared at Rosalie.

“Yes, Mrs. Robinson?”  Elizabeth asked and waited for several moments.  “I am sorry, but I have some unexpected guests, if you will excuse me?  Say goodbye to Mrs. Robinson, Rosa.”

“Bye!”  She waved happily.  Elizabeth stepped back and the servant closed the door. 

“Mrs. Robinson?”  A footman said from behind her.  “We should really be going if we are to . . .”

“I know!”  She turned and walked blindly to the street.  A footman took her arm and guided her back into the coach, slammed the door shut and jumping back on, they began to move again.  Lifting her chin, she stared at the receding sight of Darcy House.  “Who wants to associate with fools who admire a cow?  Certainly not I!”  

“NOTHING QUITE LIKE AN ELM.”  Mr. Darcy leapt down from his horse and leading the animal by the reins, walked over to an enormous old tree.  “They last forever, you know.  Their memories are vast, Son.”

“But are not the rocks older, Father?” 

“Older, yes, but they are not alive!”  He smiled and patted the tree.  “This is a living, breathing monument.  No stone can match it.  Even when one distant day this tree someday falls,” he bent and picked up a seed pod, “it renews itself.  It renews us all.  It feeds our livestock and,” he pulled off a bit of bark, “it may feed you one day.”

Darcy laughed.  “Father . . .” 

“Well I prefer the seeds, myself.”  He chewed one and gave the rest to Darcy. “However, our crops may fail sometime.”  Jumping back onto his horse, he looked back at Pemberley House far in the distance.  “I must diversify our holdings.”  He said thoughtfully.

“What does that mean, Father?”  Darcy’s intelligent eyes focussed on him; and Mr. Darcy laughed.

“It means, I need to prepare in the event that the weather fails or,” his eyes danced, “if your mama gives me another son.  Come on, I will race you home!”

“Elm.  Of course.  A living monument; and I thought I was so clever.”  Darcy started as the carriage hit a rut and his eyes flew open.  Elizabeth looked up at him and he straightened a little, blinking in the bright sunshine that poured in the window.

“I am sorry, what did you say?”  She moved from her comfortable spot leaning on his shoulder.  Darcy looked down to see that she had been reading his father’s journal on his lap.  “I could not resist.”

“I am not surprised.”  He glanced across the carriage to where Georgiana was reading and Kitty was valiantly trying to sketch something.  “I must have dozed off.  Where are we?” 

“I think that we are nearing Lambton, I saw that old barn that has been threatening to fall, I believe that it has at last made good on it.”

“Hmm, Fitzwilliam won that one.”  He stretched a little and yawned.  “I cannot imagine why I am so sleepy.”

“No, I have no idea.”  They exchanged smiles and he chuckled. 

Kitty looked up from her drawing.  “Did you hear all that noise during the night?  Someone must have had a terrible belly ache, all that moaning!”

Georgiana put down her book and nodded.  “I know, and there was a lady, too.  Did you hear her?  I felt terrible for the poor thing!  Her nerves must have been terribly afflicted.”

“It must have been the beef; I heard a man in the dining room remark that it was underdone.”  Kitty said seriously and looked across to Darcy and Elizabeth.  “You two are not becoming ill are you, you look awfully red!”

“Oh.”  Elizabeth put her hands to her burning cheeks.  “We are fine; it is just a little warm here.”

“Yes.”  Darcy glanced at her before lowering the window.  “A little overheated.”

“Jane was ill before we left; oh I hope it is not catching.”  Georgiana fretted. 

“I am sure that it is not.”  Elizabeth assured her and looked up to Darcy. 

“You never know, we just might be suffering the same burden.”  His lips lifted in a little smile.  “Tell me what you read.”

“Oh.”  She opened the journal.  “Let us see.  Here it is.  13 June, 1795.”   

“That is today!”  Kitty cried.  “I would almost have been one.  How old were you?”

“I was ten.”  He smiled.  “And my dear wife was almost four.”

“Little did you know what was coming.”  Elizabeth murmured as he chuckled, then read aloud, “Father and Mother looked particularly grand last night, as well they should!  Such a ball!  My dear Anne wondered if she could ever host something so beautiful, and I assured her that one day when she was mistress of Pemberley, she would make all of our ancestors proud.  So lovely she was, especially to see her flaxen hair so beautifully arranged.  Mother tried to convince her that we could afford the tax and should continue to wear our wigs as befits our status, but my Anne displayed her Fitzwilliam stubbornness and refused.  I must say that I admired her determination and will follow her lead.  My head itches terribly from the wig.  I do not care if it is unfashionable of not, that miserable ornament is meeting the lake tomorrow, and despite Mother’s remonstrations, I am bathing there as well.  One way or another I will convince Annie to jump in with me!”

They all laughed, especially Darcy.  “I can just see my grandmother scolding Mother about how to dress appropriately, and heaven forbid they immerse their bodies in water!  I certainly appreciate Father’s determination to be clean.”

“When did your grandparents die?  I did not realize that your father was not master of Pemberley when you were so old.”

“Oh.”  Darcy looked at the date again.  “It was later that year, I believe.  I was at Matlock that autumn so I imagine that they must have been ill and I was kept away.  I do not know; it is hazy at best.  Parents do not always tell their children the truth; I came home to find Father was master.  I remember I rode the hunt with Richard and Layton for the first time that year.”  He said thoughtfully.  “Uncle Henry was not home to stop us, but when I returned home I remember telling Father all about it, and he was not displeased.”  Darcy smiled at Georgiana.  “Our father was a man who embraced life.  I have come to know him quite well through these pages.  Even in his darkest times, he clung to symbols of life.”

“What symbols were those?”  Elizabeth laid her head back on his shoulder. 

“I will take you there, love.”   He kissed her nose.  “I understand now.”

“Read another!”  Georgiana begged. 

“Hmmm.”  Elizabeth picked up another volume and flipped through the pages.  “Let us see.  23 December 1796, I am filled with joy this day!  I travelled to Windsor and have retrieved Fitzwilliam from Eton.  We are to London for Christmas.  Little Georgiana is home at Pemberley, I would not risk the journey with her, but neither did I wish to miss seeing my boy.  I cannot say enough how I have missed him.  It had been rough going for him, away from home for the first time and with no Anne to send comfort, but I did my best, buoying him as well as myself when I wrote.  He was gaunt when I found him waiting.  I understand that he was always tired and nearly impossible to wake.  The boys who shared his dormitory were most eager to tell me of their various attempts to wake him each day, poor lad!  He bore the attention stoically; he is so serious and changed.  I understand his reluctance to wake, perhaps one day he will find someone who can convince him that the day is worth facing.  In any case, I am determined to give him a good time in London.  I think that we will prowl the bookshops first, he assures me that he is in desperate need of fresh material.” Darcy’s brow was creased in thought and Elizabeth startled him when she spoke again, “Will?  I only just now realized that waking you is no trouble at all, and has not been for a very long time.”

“I was just thinking that.”  He smiled.  “I had not realized it either.” 

“Look!”  Georgiana cried.  “Lambton!”

“Almost home.”  Elizabeth sighed.  “I am ready.”

THE CLOCK TICKED STEADILY, breaking the almost painful silence.  Mrs. Martin cleared her throat and stirred her tea, then looked meaningfully at Abbey.  “The weather has been most delightful.”

“Yes.”  The nervous young man glanced at the window.  “Quite.”

“Are your parents enjoying the Season, Mr. McCoy?”  Mrs. Martin said brightly.  “I hope that they are taking advantage of the variety of entertainment?”

“They enjoy the theatre, madam, but not so much the balls.  Too crowded, it brings on Mother’s nerves, you see.”

“Oh, well, she is a lady; it is only to be expected.”  She took a sip from her cup.  There was a distant knock and everyone looked towards the drawing room door.  Boots were heard on the steps and Abbey glanced at her sister, who shrugged her shoulders.

“Mr. Peterson, madam.”  The maid announced as everyone stood.

“Mrs. Martin, Miss Martin, Miss Amanda.”  The man bowed and rose, casting his gaze over the other.  “McCoy.”

“Peterson.”

“Come, have some tea with us!”  Mrs. Martin gushed.  “How nice it is to have two such handsome gentlemen calling today!  I was just asking Mr. McCoy how his parents enjoy the Season.”

“Ah, I have not seen them about often, McCoy.”

“They enjoy the quieter events, they do not like the push and pull of the crowds.”

“Hmm, shame that, I suppose that you take after them?  After counting money all day, you prefer a nice toddy and perhaps a comforter?”

“I am five and twenty; I am not an old man, Peterson.”  He turned to Abbey.  “I am sure that any proper young lady would appreciate a gentleman who prefers his place at home.”

“Of course, a gentleman who is happy in his home is undoubtedly content in his life.”  She smiled. 

“But does he ever leave it?”  Peterson asked.  “I, for example, come here today to ask for your company at a ball, Miss Martin.  Would not dancing be far more attractive than an evening of quiet contemplation?”  He saw Mrs. Martin’s eyes light up.  “Of course you and your husband will come to chaperone; and Miss Amanda, you are out, you are welcome as well.”

“It sounds delightful, sir.”  Mrs. Martin smiled and nodded at Abbey.

“Mr. Peterson, I was here first, so any request for Miss Martin’s time should also be made by me first.  And just so you know, I do dance.” 

“Then why do you not ask?  The maid said you have been here nearly a half hour.”  Peterson sat back and folded his arms.  “It is possible that our events do not cross.”

“I do not jump headlong into . . . conversations.  I consider the lady’s feelings, I . . .” Another knock was heard and the party quieted.  The door was opened then shut, and the maid arrived at the doorway. 

“What is it, Sarah?”

“A calling card, madam.”  She entered and handed it to the mistress.  “The gentleman heard that you were entertaining and did not wish to interfere.” 

“Mr. Bingley.”  Mrs. Martin gasped and looked to Abbey, who blushed and took the card. 
Mr. Charles Bingley, Esq.
  On the back was scratched,
Louisa invites you to meet Wallace at your convenience
.

“Bingley?”  Peterson frowned.

“He is a gentleman.”  Amanda offered.

“Gentleman?”  McCoy asked.  “Another one?  How many men are buzzing around this house, Miss Martin?”

“One too many for your liking, sir?”  Abbey lifted her chin and met his eye.  “Did you have a question for me?”

“Who is Bingley?”  He demanded.

“He is a friend.”  Abbey said softly and looked at the card.  “Just a friend.”

“WHERE IS SHE?”  Mrs. Reynolds cried.  “Oh dear, if she finds the . . . Miss Rosalie, no!”

Rosalie came to a stop at the top of the marble stairs and looked back at Mrs. Reynolds with a bright smile and pointed.  “Papa!”

“No, dear.  Papa is busy.  Come here.”  She said softly and crept forward.  Mrs. Robbins strode past her and took hold of Rosalie. 

“Never run away from me again!  You could be hurt!”   Instantly, Rosalie began to sob. 

Hearing her daughter’s piercing wail, Elizabeth appeared from Darcy’s study.  “What on earth is wrong?”

“Miss Rosalie escaped, madam, and was about to walk down the stairs.  I think that disaster was imminent.” 

“And how did she manage to escape in the first place?”  Elizabeth closed the study door and headed up the stairs to her daughter.  “Miss Rosa, what are you doing?”

“Mamaaaaaaa!” 

“No, do not Mama me.”  Elizabeth picked her up.  “You do not go down the stairs.  No.” 

“No!”  Rosalie shook her head.

Sighing, Elizabeth assessed the situation.  “I knew this day was coming, it is the only thing that frightened me about coming home.”  Sitting down at the top of the steps, she put Rosalie next to her.  “Watch Mama.”  She slid down one step on her bottom.  Rosalie stared at her.  “You do it.  Come on.”  She patted the step.  “Down.”

“Mrs. Darcy, you will be filthy!”

“Are you telling me that the staff does not clean the stairs, Mrs. Reynolds?”

“No madam.”  Mrs. Reynolds looked at Mrs. Robbins.

“Mrs. Darcy; is it wise to teach her to go down . . .”

“If she has a method, she will use it.”  Elizabeth patted the step again.  “Down.”