Memory: Volume 3, How Far We Have Come, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (Memory: A Tale of Pride and Prejudice) (65 page)

“No, I am not that man now, but I want to know who I would have been.”  He looked down at the baby asleep on his chest and touched her cheek.  “As a child I was taught what was
right
, but I was not taught to correct my temper. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit.”
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“That makes perfect sense, think of how you struggled to accept me.  My circumstances were far below your expectations, despite your heart’s desire.  Your impression of your father’s wishes were to keep you above such company as mine.  And how you could become friends with Mr. Bingley, I do not know.”

“He was wealthy.”  Darcy stared out the window unseeingly.

“It was money from trade though.”

“He was an orphan like me.”

“And he is undeniably good, and you recognized it.  So that proves that you were not insufferably proud at heart.”  Elizabeth kissed his cheek.  “Your goodness would have overcome that proud man who was trying to take up residence in your breast.  You were just as good as your parents, but circumstances made you develop differently than they thought they had taught.”  Darcy pressed his lips together and thought over her words.  “I have a feeling that today Georgiana did something that made you feel she has overcome a similar failure in her disposition, and that is why she now wears that necklace.”  He nodded and sighed.  “Will?”

“Do not mind me, dear.”  He shook his head.  “I cannot remember who I once was.  It is foreign to me.”

“Why do you want to remember?” 

“Do you remember what you were like?”  He studied the face on his shoulder, and took her hand in his when she looked confused.  “Stewart visited while you were gone.”

“He did?  I am sorry to have missed him.  What did you talk about?”

“We got to talking about Bingley taking Netherfield, and I asked about when he met you for the first time.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to know what you were like at that age; I did not know you then.  I knew the girl who was in love with me for so long, I did not know what it was like to meet you and try to court you at Longbourn.  He described you as defensive.”

“Defensive?”  She sat up and looked at him.  “In what way?”

“Your first meeting . . .”  Darcy looked away.  “Everything he said was questioned.  After getting to know your family better, in particular your mother, I understand from what he said that you had unknowingly erected a wall to protect yourself from criticism.  I never saw you in that environment until I was ready to ask for your hand.  I did not see defensiveness, I saw vulnerability.  I wonder . . .”

“What?”

“I wonder if I had been this proud man you describe, and you had been so hard to know, what would have become of us?” 

“Will . . .”

“I think too much.”

“I had forgotten how quick to judge I was.”  Elizabeth sighed.  Darcy’s arm came around her and they both looked at Rosalie’s peaceful face.  “Perhaps our proposed game for Netherfield is a bad idea.  Perhaps it will bring up qualities about ourselves that we wish to forget.”

“Love.”  Darcy kissed her.  “I think that we have already managed to forget the worst of ourselves, and have grown so much that we cannot even fathom who we once were.  But I do want to play with you.  I would love to court Miss Elizabeth Bennet in her home county.  I want to see the world that filled your life.  I have not seen much beyond your garden gate.  You have seen nearly every one of my childhood haunts.  I want to know where you used to go.  Let me court you, Lizzy.”  He dragged his fingertips along her wrist, then up to caress her cheek.  Elizabeth shivered.  “Let me steal a kiss.”  His lips hovered over her mouth, brushed the moist flesh, then drew away.  He smiled to see her eyes were dark and her breathing was shallow.  “Oh dearest, why do I always find myself wanting you when Rosalie is on my lap?”

LOUISA LOOKED UP from her breakfast.  “Gerald.”

“Yes, dear.”  He smiled but did not change his focus.

“Stop staring at my waist.”

“I cannot.” 

“This takes time; you will not suddenly see me sprout a melon under my skirts!”

“I know that.”  He cleared his throat and rattled his paper.  “I am not without knowledge.”

“Hmm.”  She glanced at him peeking at her waist again and returned to her meal.  “What do you think of Charles? He seems anxious.”

“mmhmm.”  Hurst turned the page.

“He is different.”  Louisa prodded.

“He has made some spectacular decisions during his time away.”  Hurst murmured.  “I never expected him to keep the mills.”

“Neither did I, Papa would be . . . well honestly I do not know.”

“I think that your father would be both disappointed and proud, your mother would be infuriated.  Nonetheless, he has already achieved the goal of becoming genteel, I think in that he is satisfied.”  He glanced at her.  “He was asking about Robinson and Miss Martin.”

“What did you say?”

“There is nothing to say.  Is there?”

“No.”  She sighed.  “He tried to visit Mr. Martin at the shop.”

“I know.”

“He was looking for Miss Martin.”

“I know.” 

“She was not there.”

“I know.”  Hurst looked up and smiled to see her impatience.  “She is your friend, Louisa, you like her.  She just has not confided in you.”

“I do not want Charles to be hurt, but I know that she is wise not to speak her opinion.  She has not seen him for three months, after all.”

“She is no social climber.  She has rejected two excellent suitors for some reason, and my guess is that the reason is genuine care for Bingley.”

Louisa nodded.  “He asked her to wait for him, even before Caroline died.” 

“I think that Bingley’s decisions about the mills indicate that his motivation is similar, he has achieved the highest position he wants and is now concerned with happiness.”  They looked at each other and sighed. “Patience, Mrs. Hurst.”

“Good morning!”  Bingley arrived at the door.

“ahhh.  Your ears must be burning.”  Hurst chuckled and put down his paper.  “And what has the master been doing?”

“Master.”  Bingley laughed.  “Getting lost, to be honest with you.”  He poured out some coffee and then smiled over the display of food.  “I took a tour of the house, and found myself in the library.  Darcy would be aghast at the selection, I am sure.  Well, he will undoubtedly tell me next week.”  He took a bite of his toast and sat down.  “And then I went into the study, and sat behind the desk.”

“How did it feel?” 

“Overwhelming.” Bingley’s eyes widened.  “I imagined being the man who sat there making the decisions for scores of lives.”

“What has entered your mind today, Charles!”  Louisa laughed.  “You are leasing, the extent of your decisions will be choosing which animal to hunt or perhaps when to hold a dinner.”

“I know.”  He smiled.  “I just cannot explain the enormous weight that I feel gone from my shoulders this morning.  At last I woke up in a home where I am the master.  It is a first for me, even if I do not actually own the place, I am in charge.  Humbling.” 

“Pardon me, sir, you have several gentlemen of the neighbourhood here to pay their compliments.”  A footman announced.  “I have placed them in the green drawing room.”

“Oh.”  Bingley looked at Hurst.  “What do I do?”

“Come on.”  He got to his feet and put down his paper.  “Time to begin the game.  They wasted no time.”

Bingley followed him.  “What do you mean?”

“Seriously Bingley, the neighbourhood has been expecting your arrival for some time.  Young, unmarried, rich, the mamas are salivating and the papas are here to appease their wives and unload their daughters.”  Hurst clapped his back.  “Forward into battle!”

“Is that really . . .”  He shook his head.  “Why should the country be any different from town?   I think that I remember this from Darcy’s life before he married.” 

“Precisely.”

Following a servant’s direction, they found their way to their visitors.  Bingley spotted Lucas and was grateful for the familiar face.  “What brings you here?”  He shook his hand.

“I came with Father.”  He nodded to Sir William bobbing in the background.  “He is the self-appointed champion of society around these parts.  If there is a dinner, hunt, ball, or party, he is privy to it and most likely hosting.”  Lucas sighed.  “And I do have a younger sister.”  Their eyes met.  “Sorry, Mother . . .”

“Yes, I understand all too well.”  Bingley turned on his glowing smile and entered the fray.  “Thank you all for coming; I did not expect such a warm welcome, gentlemen.  Mr. Bennet, I am glad to see you, how are your wife and Miss Lydia?”

All eyes turned suspiciously to Mr. Bennet, who chortled softly.  “They are quite well, although Lydia returns to school tomorrow.  Did you enjoy your time with Mrs. Darcy and Kitty?”  The eyes turned back to Bingley.

“I did, and they send their greetings, soon they will be my guests for once.  I wish that I could have danced with Miss Catherine at her birthday celebration, but of course, my mourning prevented that.”

“Yes, I was sorry to learn of your loss, sir.”

“I thank you.”  Bingley said softly as the eyes now focussed on the armband. 

Hurst spoke up.  “Our mourning ends in only a few more weeks, and I know that my wife certainly hopes to socialize with the neighbourhood then.”

“Your wife, sir?”  A tall man stepped up.  “And have you daughters or sons?”

“I do not know.”  Hurst grinned.  “Ask me in five months!”  The men laughed. 

“Mr. Bingley.”  The man continued and bowed.  “I am Rupert Long.”

“Mr. Long!”  Bingley’s smile grew.  “You are hosting Miss Martin!”  Again, the eyes of the men focussed sharply.

“Yes, I was expecting to host both of my nieces, but Amanda seems to have caught herself a suitor in London.  I understand that you are acquainted with my niece Abigail?”

“I am, sir. I have had the pleasure of her company on several occasions and I hope to know her better now that we are in the same neighbourhood.”

Mr. Long looked around triumphantly.  “Well then, I will be sure to tell Abbey when I return home.”

“Good, good.”  He blushed a little and then looked at him sharply.  “Did you say that Miss Martin is at your home, sir?”

“Yes, she arrived Saturday afternoon.”  He smiled.  “Her mother was driving her to distraction and she begged her father to bring her a week early.”

“She is in Meryton, sir?”  Bingley confirmed again and searched Long’s face. 

“When I said that I was coming to Netherfield to greet you, she asked to join me so that she might visit with Mrs. Hurst, but of course I had to say no.”

“Why of course?”  Bingley demanded.

“Well, I did not know that Mrs. Hurst was present, sir.”  Long’s smile grew as he recognized genuine interest.  “I know that now, though.”

Hurst smiled at his brother.  “And my wife would be very glad to see Miss Martin.  We were just speaking of her over breakfast.”

“I will be certain to pass that information along, sir.”  Mr. Long bowed. 

“I am sure that my wife would be glad to know Mrs. Hurst as well, Mr. Bingley!”  Sir William bustled up.  “You have not seen Lucas Lodge, have you, sir?  Well let me tell you about it, you can understand, being from trade wanting to move on to better things . . .”  Bingley shot a look at Lucas who lifted his shoulders apologetically.  Always amiable, he smiled and placidly listened to the story of the knighting, St. James’s, and of course, the availability of Maria.

“It seems some competition is to be had amongst the ladies.  Particularly with the niece of Long.”  Mr. Bennet smiled and spoke to Lucas.  “My wife will be most seriously displeased, but it will be undeniably fascinating to watch the display as she works her prey.”

“Sir, I sincerely hope that you do not encourage this foolish notion of Bingley and Kitty.”  Lucas said softly. 

“I have no desire to encourage anything, but tell me, will you be able to check your mother’s attempts to ingratiate Maria in Bingley’s heart?”  He nodded over to Sir William.  “You look after your parents and I will look after my wife.  Mr. Bingley however, is on his own.”

“HUSH A BY BABY ON THE TREE TOP, when the wind blows the cradle will rock, when the bough breaks the cradle will fall, and down will come baby, cradle and all.”
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Darcy looked up from his letter and smiled when he heard Elizabeth’s voice and Rosalie’s giggles.  Next the sound of odd keys being struck and clapping pushed him to his feet and he wandered towards the music room, where he stood at the doorway and watched Elizabeth sitting on the bench with the baby on her lap, helping her to touch the keys in a simple version of the tune.  “Moooore!”  Rosalie squealed.

“You are a music lover?”  Elizabeth laughed as they began again.  “I hope that you will have your aunts’ talent, your Mama has very little here I am afraid.”  Rosalie looked up and gave her a kiss on the cheek.  “Thank you, dear.”

“Mama.”  Rosalie looked back at the keys and started to pound them in a discordant jangle of notes, and squealed with joy.

“No, no, do not hit the keys.”  Elizabeth said sternly, and took her hands.  “Stroke them, nice, Rosa, nice.”

“Aha!”  She copied Elizabeth and looked up. 

“Yes dear, just like that.  Nice.”  She kissed Rosalie’s cheek, then moving her hands out of the way, put her arms around her and started playing softly.  Darcy remained where he was and sank against the doorframe as the familiar notes of his birthday song were played once again.  When it was over, he started to clap but stopped.  Elizabeth’s hands remained on the keys and she seemed lost in thought, then closed her eyes and kissed Rosalie’s hair.  “Today is Papa’s birthday.”

“Papa!” 

“We love him so much.”  She hugged Rosalie tightly until she squealed and wiggled in protest.  “Forgive me.”  She sniffed and wiped her eyes.  “Let us see.  The first song I ever played for your papa . . .”

Darcy entered the room and started to sing, “When the painted birds laugh in the shade, where our table with cherries and nuts is spread, come live and be merry and join with me, to sing the sweet chorus of Ha Ha He.”
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