Memory: Volume 3, How Far We Have Come, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (Memory: A Tale of Pride and Prejudice) (49 page)

“Thank you, Mrs. Porter.”  He kissed her cheek and watched her go.  “Thank you.”

ELIZABETH’S EYES FLEW OPEN with the shattering sound of a thunderclap.  The crack of the lightning strike made her jump nearly out of the bed.  Darcy’s hands found her waist and he pulled her back against his chest.  Hard rain started pounding against the window as once again thunder and lightning filled the dark night. 

“You are shaking.”

“It is only thunder, only thunder.”  She whispered and drew a sharp breath, turning to hide against his neck with the next clap.  “Ohhh, too close, much too close!”

Hooking his chin over her shoulder, he looked out of the window and watched the sky flashing.  “It still frightens you?  Even now?  Think of how spectacular this is; imagine the power that makes night into day.”

“I cannot stop thinking of the power.” 
Crack
  “Ohhhh!”  She burrowed in closer.  “Make it stop!”

“I cannot control the weather, love.”  He chuckled.  “Any closer and you will be inside of me.” 

“That is silly.”  She frowned.

“I am not the grown woman hiding from a little storm.” 

“It is not little, it is enough to make Noah’s flood seem like a puddle.”

“Who is being silly?”  Darcy murmured as he kissed her ear and rubbed her back.  “You are safe, you are not on top of Oakham Mount, you are not sitting under a tree that is about to be struck.”

“That was so frightening.” 

“I can only imagine.”  He considered ways to reassure the frightened girl who lay in his arms.  Every big storm was the same, if they were in bed, she was curled against him, if it was daytime, she would come looking for him. If he was not home . . . He closed his eyes, remembering her haunted look the last time he had been caught in a storm and she had stood vigil watching for his return.   “What shall we talk about?”

“Anything.  Please.” 

“You are no help at all, if you were not so scared, I would still be asleep.”  He looked back at her and she glared. 
BOOM
  “Well, maybe not.”  Darcy chuckled when his prodding made the woman reappear, and he renewed his embrace.  “At least it is raining now instead of during the fair.  I had a very nice time.”

“You did?”  Elizabeth’s head popped up and she smiled.  “Oh I am so glad.  We have never had the opportunity to attend before.”

“That is because the occupants of Pemberley never attended such events, dearest.” 

“Well they do now.”  She declared and he squeezed her. 

“Yes, mistress.”

“Why would you not go?  It was not so different from Vauxhall, less refined, but essentially the same events, dancing, boxing, circus performers . . .”

Nuzzling his nose under her ear, he kissed her throat and rested his head on her shoulder.  “I never attended Vauxhall until you came along.  I had never done so many things until you inspired me.  Until you made me.”  He smiled when he felt her laugh.  “And I never would have enjoyed them with any other woman.”

“So you are glad to have attended?”

“Well . . .” He jumped when she pinched him just as another loud clap of thunder sounded, and she jumped back into his arms.  “Yes, love.”  They kissed.  “Besides, if we had not gone, Kitty would have missed her dancing.”

“She was very popular.”  Elizabeth smiled and relaxed.  Darcy kissed her hair and closed his eyes.  “So many young men.”

“Unsuitable young men.”

“Not all of them were unsuitable.”  He said nothing and she sighed, “Fitzwilliam, she was only dancing, not looking for a husband, she is in no way ready for that.”

“Thankfully.”  He murmured sleepily. 

She lifted her head and saw that he was drifting off, and settled back against him.  The rumble of thunder and flashes of light seemed to be moving farther away.  Soon, his soft snoring and the gentle puffs of air against her neck were louder than the retreating storm.  “That is better.”  She watched his chest rise and fall, then closed her eyes.  “Thank you, Will.” 

17 JULY 1811

Fitzwilliam just came in and kissed me, and said that he had some urgent business on the estate.  After last night’s storm I can imagine there might be flooding problems, he was not sure what was wrong, but he was to meet both Nichols and Matthews.  I hope that it is not as bad as he fears; his eyes gave away his concern.  

I intend to speak with Kitty this morning and thank her for being so considerate of Georgiana at the fair.  While our primary reason for going was to enjoy a day out, hers was to enjoy her new freedom to dance.  Since she is not officially out for another two weeks, we limited her opportunities to only young men known to our family.  Kitty did not protest or complain, and when she was sitting out, she always joined Georgiana, who was bound to feel left out.  Of course Fitzwilliam offered to dance with her, but she declined.  Later she told me that she would love to dance with her elder brother at home but not in a crowd of young people.  I tried to hide my laughter, poor Fitzwilliam, has your sister labeled you a stick in the mud?  Well I suppose that at fifteen she might think of you as terribly stiff. 

I received a letter from Louisa Hurst that her brother and husband arrived safely in Scarborough.  I suspect that Mr. Bingley will write to Fitzwilliam soon with his plans.  She also mentioned that Mr. Robinson has departed for Swansdon, and will attempt to reconcile with his wife.  I am unsure of my feelings on that.  The man’s past is ugly, both from his miserable childhood and then his behavior as an adult, but he has proven quite clearly that he is a changed individual, and for the better.  I hope for his son’s sake that he finds Mrs. Robinson amenable to his hopes, and changed herself.

“You can hope all you wish, Lizzy, but that woman is concerned solely with herself, I am sure of it.”  She glanced at the clock and put her journal away.  It was time to visit with Rosalie before beginning her duties.

 Setting off at her characteristically brisk pace, she paused when she heard a voice floating through a window.  Moving closer, she touched her belly.  “That is your Papa.  Do you hear him when he talks?  Someday he will take you for walks around the house and tell you secrets.  Someday he will sit with you in the nursery and discuss his worries, and ask you for advice on how to manage your silly mama who is afraid of a little thunder.”  Hearing conversation, she stepped to the window where she saw Darcy on horseback below, pointing up at the house and talking with Nichols.  “But until then, he will just lay his head on my stomach and beg you to be well.  Please be well for your papa, dear.  He is so excited to meet you.”  Leaning against the window frame, she listened to the indistinct rumble of his voice and studied her husband clearly at work.  She loved watching him transform into the master, and seeing him turning his mount and galloping quickly away sent a thrill through her from head to toe.  It was so tempting to throw open the window and call for him to come and take her for a ride. 
Behave yourself, Lizzy!

“Mrs. Darcy?” 

“Oh!”  Elizabeth straightened.  “Yes, Matthews, what can I do for you?”

Seeing the master’s horse disappearing around the house, he quickly contained his desire to laugh at his smitten mistress.  “It is rather what I may do for you.  There was some damage discovered from the storm, if you come with me, I can show you?”

“Certainly.”  She fell into step with him.  “I suppose that is what Mr. Darcy was observing with Nichols.  Is that what the urgent meeting was about?  How is the house holding up?  It is so old; I am amazed there are not more problems arising than I already know about.”

“It is actually very sound.”  He looked around as they came to the stairway and headed up.  “I have looked over all of the items that concerned Mr. Darcy, and have found that he missed nothing.”  Noting Elizabeth’s lack of surprise, he continued, “There are some plaster issues, but I think that it is safe to say that the house settled long ago.”  Bowing slightly, he indicated that she should precede him.  “The guest wing was damaged.”

“Well at least it is not the family wing.  The only visitors we expect in the near future are Mr. Bingley and Mr. Hurst.”

“For the hunting season?  I know that the gamekeeper is rather pleased with the deer and the coveys.  He caught a few poachers while you were away.”  He said thoughtfully.

“He did not shoot them, did he?”  Elizabeth asked worriedly.

“No.”  Matthews shook his head at her compassion.  “No, he followed the master’s orders.”

“Good.”  They arrived at the damaged room and she gasped.  “Oh my!”

“Yes.”  He sighed and looked around.  “Some of the slate blew off and water poured in.  We are not entirely sure but the roof might have been struck by lightning.  I understand that Mr. Darcy, the master’s father, had the lightning rods installed some twenty years ago.  They may have saved the house from fire.”  He walked to a corner and pointed.  “You see?  I think that we need to tear this out, then rebuild it all.  We temporarily fixed the roof, but . . . well, there is no question that the repairs must be made, the master thought it would be an opportunity for you to redecorate if you like.  I showed this to him already, that is what he and Nichols were examining outside, I suspect.”

Elizabeth laughed and put her hands on her hips.  “Well, it was not just a little storm as he claimed, was it?”

“Pardon me, madam?  I believe that Mr. Darcy said that it was rather fearsome.  I know that it knocked me from my slumber.”

She looked at him with surprise.  “He said that he was disturbed as well?” 

“He said that he felt under siege by the grip of the storm.” 

“The grip of the storm.”  Elizabeth repeated.  “Very funny, Mr. Darcy.”

“I believe he was quite serious, madam.”

She glanced out of the window and spotted Darcy below and studying the roof.  “Oh, of that I have no doubt, Matthews.  None at all.”

“CAROLINE.”  Robinson stood at the doorway to the mistress’ chamber.  “May I come in?”

“It is your home.”  She walked into the closet and sat at the dressing table, sticking pins in her hair.  “What brings you to my exile?”

“I have not heard from you.” 

“I gathered that you wanted nothing to do with me, which is why I was sent here.”  She caught his reflection in her mirror.  “Why would I write to you?”

“Did you read my letters?”

“I glanced at them.” 

“Do you care at all about our son?”

She closed her eyes.  “I assume that he is well or you would not be here.”

“But you do not ask of him?”

“Harris, producing children is the obligation of a wife, producing a son is the goal.  I have performed my duty.  You should be showering me with gifts, not banishing me to this forsaken patch of earth.”  She watched as his eyes turned to take in the breathtaking beauty of the Derbyshire landscape and noticed his incredulous expression.  When he looked back, she was rooting through her jewel box.  “Has the money from the lost shipment been recovered?  Have you found the pirates?”

“I have people working on it, but I expect it to be a total loss.  I will use others next year and have hired more people to protect my interests.”

She pinched her cheeks and looked at the effect in the mirror.  “How much was lost?”

“A substantial sum.”  Robinson’s eyes narrowed.  “Do you care anything at all of what happened between us?”

“Have you come to apologize?”

“Apologize?”  He glared down at her.  “For removing you from our home?”

“Yes.”  She turned around on the stool.  “What is the difference in the child’s care now from what it was before?  In neither case am I involved.  Why can I not do that from London?  It looks far better for your wife to be in your home, Mr. Robinson.”

“Have you forgotten your neglect?  You ordered that he not be fed!”

“I was simply following the advice of the books I read.”  She said dismissively.

“You were following the advice of your miserable mother.”  Robinson started pacing.  “I understand your childhood better.  I have had a great many talks with Louisa over the past weeks . . .”

“Oh, do not start an affair with her, Harris, she has not had Mr. Hurst’s baby yet.  Then again, if she is barren . . .”

“How can you speak that way about your own sister?”  He stopped and stared.  “She has taken in our son and given him the care that he deserves!”

“So you have abandoned him to another?”  She smiled.  “What makes you so different from me?”

“I have not abandoned him, Caroline, I have rescued him.”  He bent down and held her arms.  “I admit that I was not prepared for the changes that came over me with his birth.  I was not indifferent, I would call it caution, closed, stoic . . .”

“Call it what you will, Mr. Robinson, but until the moment I gave birth to your heir, you never made any statement of anticipation or concern to me about him.  You barely asked if I was well, you were in such denial of what you had done.”

“Done?  Creating a child . . .”

“You cared nothing of creating a child.”

“That is a lie.”  He paced away while she watched.  “I cared deeply for him.  I feared him.”

“Fear?”  She laughed and he spun around, red-faced.  “What could you fear from a baby?”

“I feared losing him.”  He glared and her smile fell away.  “I feared becoming attached because every . . .” He closed his eyes.  “Everyone in my life dies.”

“Were you expecting me to die?” Caroline asked softly.

“I listened to your screams, Caroline, yes, I expected you to die.” 

“And that is why you brought that little girl into my home, to comfort you?”  She stabbed at him.  “Yes, I know.”

“That was a mistake, but I never acted on it.  I doubt that I would have, had the moment come.”  He sighed.  “I saw too much of myself in her.”

“How touching.”  Caroline sneered.

“I have admitted my errors, I have come to grips with my past and I have embraced the future with our son.  I am asking you now, are you willing to do the same?”