Memory: Volume 3, How Far We Have Come, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (Memory: A Tale of Pride and Prejudice) (7 page)

He jumped down from the horse and helped her to slide down its flank and into his arms.  A boy ran up to take the animal and he lifted his chin.  “Are the Bennets home?”

“Mrs. Bennet is out, sir, but Mr. Bennet is home.”  He walked off with the horse and they turned to sigh at each other. 

“It was an excellent thought, my dear.”  He kissed her softly. “Keep having them.”

10 APRIL 1811

One year ago today our dear Rosalie was born.  I can hardly believe it is true, she is such a part of our lives that I can only think now of time as that before and after she entered our world.  It is a demarcation point, not one that marks the day that my heart started beating; that was and will always be the day that I saw my love.  Rosalie’s birth instead marks the day when my heart grew, full of love and pride.  My flesh barely contained the joy that I felt to hold that tiny screaming being in my hands.  She fit there so perfectly, blinking at me, dependent on me.  The awesome responsibility that I barely comprehended moments before my dearest love was freed from the torment of birthing her, hit me like a cannon ball fired straight at my chest.  I am grateful for my dear daughter’s life, her health, her joyous babbling and infinite curiosity.  Through her I will see my Elizabeth as she grew.  They are so much alike already.  I love you my darling little girl.
 

Elizabeth smiled and wiped her eyes.  From the sitting room she could hear Darcy and Rosalie laughing, some game was afoot and she wished to hurry her entry so she could join them. 

10 April 1811

One year ago today, our dear Rosalie was born.  I remember distinctly begging my Fitzwilliam to take me to the tree.  I needed to be there, I needed to feel the surety that special place gives me.  I needed to see the evidence that my memory would live on for countless years in the precious tree that he planted in my honour.  I knew that she was coming, love.  I knew that she was to be born that day.  I had known it for hours but did not say a word.  Perhaps I was denying it because we were both so frightened.  Perhaps if I did not say anything, the fear that I would die and you would be left alone would not surface.  Oh Fitzwilliam, how many months did I spend alone worrying over you?  I know that you do not wish to speak of it, I know that you have no desire to revisit that fear and that you prefer to focus on the glorious little girl who has invaded our hearts and souls.  I understand, but today I not only wish to celebrate this first year of our dear baby’s life, but also the year of joy you have given to me. 

From the depths of our fears was born an even deeper love than any around us can comprehend.  Our facing and surviving Rosalie’s birth that day one year ago gave us the strength and determination that has helped us to survive so many experiences since.  We were alone, by our tree, bringing our child into the world.  It was nobody but us.  Our friends and family are unquestionably precious to us, but at that moment it was you and I, the centre of our family, our home, our love.  You and I became that day so very strong.  Do I make sense, my Fitzwilliam?  I am often nonsensical when I am trying to be serious, it is not in my nature, I suppose.  Just know that I love you, and I love our baby girl.  And I love that you were the one who lifted her up to my eyes and showed me who we had created together.

Wiping her eyes again, she tried to calm herself and failed, finally succumbing to her tears. 
Stop this, Lizzy!
  Adams came into the room and stopped dead. 

“Mrs. Darcy?”  He said softly. 

She sat up and found that he was offering her a dry handkerchief, one she had embroidered with Darcy’s initials.  “Thank you.” 

“May I get you . . .”

“No, thank you, I am well.”  She drew a breath and smiled.  “Is everything prepared?”

“Yes, madam, I was just going to let you know that all is in order, and we may leave at any time.” 

“Good.”  She stood and he stepped back.  “How do I look?” 

He looked her over critically and nodded.  “Perhaps a little tired, that is all.  Your eyes are not too red.” 

He bowed and left, and she went to the doorway just in time to see Darcy covering Rosalie with a cloth and whipping it off of her with a laugh as she clapped and squealed.  “More?”  He grinned and covered her again.  This time Rosalie was so overcome with giggles that she tipped over.  Darcy looked up to see Elizabeth standing in the doorway with her arms folded.  He picked up Rosalie and whispered.  “Oh dear, what will we do?  Your mama is displeased.” 

“Who said that I was displeased?”  Elizabeth smiled and walked into the room. 

“Mama!”  Rosalie struggled out of Darcy’s grasp and reached for her.

“I love you, too dear.”  She sat beside him and held Rosalie.  When she looked up to him his brow creased.  “I can hide nothing from you.” 

“No, so why even try?”  He kissed her and kissed Rosalie’s head, then wrapped his arm around her.  “Happy tears?”

“Yes.”

“I was thinking of how scared we were at this time a year ago.”  He whispered in her ear.  “And how much we have grown.”  Darcy kissed Elizabeth gently.  “I wish that I could put it into words, but I am afraid that I would fail terribly.  Just know that I love our baby, but without loving you I would be a lost soul.”  Seeing her eyes well up he chuckled.  “A sentimental day, I think.  Perhaps I should read your journal?”  Elizabeth nodded and he kissed her again.  “I will do that, and thank you.”

“You do not know what is written.”  She laughed and wiped her eyes. 

“I think that I do.”  He closed his eyes and felt Elizabeth stroking his hair while Rosalie settled her face on her shoulder.  “I am not looking forward to this trip.”

“I know.”  She continued to caress his hair. “Your last visit to Rosings was very painful.”

“I am hoping that the atmosphere has changed significantly with the new occupants, but I do not anticipate seeing my aunt again.  I am willing to tolerate, but reconciliation is not desired.”  His eyes opened to find her loving gaze.  “Does that make sense?”

“Of course it does.  Look at me and my mother.”  She smiled when he sighed.  “I am unquestionably curious to meet Lady Catherine.”

“If she says one word against you I will not hesitate to express my displeasure.  That is if she acknowledges you at all.”  He smiled when her brows rose.  “You are going to make her acknowledge you.”

“I will be myself, and I will not change to suit her.”  She looked at her daughter and smiled.  “Such a gift you have for your first birthday!  A trip to visit your namesake!”

“Rosalie was not named after Rosings.”  Darcy laughed and rubbed her back. 

“No, but shall we lay a friendly wager that Lady Catherine draws that conclusion at some point during our visit?”  Elizabeth tilted her head and offered playfully, “You name the stakes.”

“Ohhhhh.”  His smile grew and he studied her.  “I say that she will not be that ridiculous, and if I win . . . you will indulge a fond dream of mine at the earliest convenience.”

“What dream?”  Elizabeth demanded and he shook his head.  “Well in that case I demand the same.” 

“What is your dream?”  Darcy leaned forward and tenderly licked her lips before kissing her.  “May we indulge it even if I win?”

“You may not like it.”  Elizabeth whispered against his mouth as she kissed him in return.  “It may be something terribly embarrassing.”

“It may be something wickedly sensual, too.”  Darcy caressed her mouth and drew her into his arms.  Nibbling his way up her throat, he murmured in her ear, “If there was no sleeping babe in your arms, I would be far more persuasive in my inquiry.”

Elizabeth slipped a hand off of Rosalie, onto his thigh, and up between his legs.  “If there was no sleeping babe in my arms, I would undoubtedly know your dream by now.”  Darcy looked down and closed his eyes.  “Or am I holding your dream in the palm of my hand?”

“Lizzzzzzzzzy.”  He groaned.

She laughed and let go, kissing his cheek.  “Come love, it is time to go!”

“Lizzy!”

“Shhh,” she pressed her fingers to his lips.  “Do not wake the baby!”

“THERE IS THE PARSONAGE.”  De Bourgh pointed.  “Look, there is Michael in the garden and I think, yes, there is Charlotte with the chickens.”

“Oh she loves her poultry.  I cannot wait to see her!”  Elizabeth laughed and waved. 

“She cannot see you, dearest.”  Darcy nudged her.

“I know, but she surely knows that it is we arriving, it is only right that I should wave.”  Darcy rolled his eyes and she shrugged.  “I have my quirks and you have yours, dear.” 

On her other side de Bourgh listened and looked across the carriage to Mary, Georgiana, and Kitty.  “How do you put up with them?”

“With difficulty, sir.”  Georgiana sighed dramatically.

“I still hold your purse strings, my dear.”  Darcy reminded her.  “Watch who you insult.”

“Fitzwilliam, that only teaches her to insult those who hold nothing over her.”  Elizabeth poked at him.

“Well that backfired.”  His brow creased and then he smiled at his sister.  “Any insult from your lips shall be judged an insult to Darcy pride, and therefore, an insult to me.  There, argue your way out of that!”

“Am I being punished?”  Georgiana’s eyes grew wide. 

“No.”  Darcy’s eyes twinkled.  “Just a reminder that you can be.”

“Oh when do we arrive at the house!”  She folded her arms while the rest of the party laughed.  The three carriages turned into the drive and wound their way through the groves and into the precisely manicured gardens. 

“Nothing has changed out here yet, I see.”  Darcy observed while the women looked on with varying opinions of the view.

“No, no it will be a great deal of trouble to rearrange what has been here for decades.  I will not undertake such a task alone.”  He caught Mary’s eye and she blushed.  They rolled around a curve and into a walled courtyard.  “We are home.”  Watching Mary closely, he saw her expression change from awe to fear.  He looked to Elizabeth who was watching her just as closely. 

“My goodness, did not Mr. Collins give us a lengthy dissertation on the number of windows this house possesses?  And the cost?   Why Captain, I do hope that your stories are half as entertaining.  Heaven knows that I am dying to see the chimney piece!”  Mary smiled at her hands and the other girls laughed.

Kitty’s eyes rolled.  “Oh Lizzy, you do not know the half of Mr. Collins’s praise for this estate.  You would think that he owned it!”

The carriage doors were opened and Darcy stepped down, followed by Elizabeth.  They moved away to retrieve Rosalie, leaving de Bourgh to hand out the rest of the ladies, ending with Mary.  He smiled down at her nervously.  “What do you think?  It is not so very large is it?”

“Not so large.”  Mary said dumbly.

“After seeing Pemberley, it is but a shadow; is it not?”

“Shadow.”

“Mary.”  He whispered.  “Are you well?”

“Oh I hope so.”  She whispered and startled, seeing his concern.  “Forgive me, I . . . to be mistress of such a place would be something, I think.  Your mother must be so very happy.”  She pulled herself together as Mrs. de Bourgh appeared in the doorway. 

De Bourgh smiled at Mary and placed her hand on his arm, then beamed at his mother.  “Yes, Mary.  I think that my mother is very happy, indeed.”

Chapter 3

D
arcy looked up from the papers strewn over the table in de Bourgh’s study, saw the man’s distraction with the view of the garden, smiled, and returned to his reading.  “What am I doing here with you?”  De Bourgh growled.  “I did not bring her here to look at your face, no matter how pleasant your mouth is when you speak.” 

“Pardon?”

De Bourgh startled and shrugged.  “Mother.”

“Oh.”  Darcy’s brow creased and he returned to work.  “You have been away, your steward needs your decisions before you return to London for the Season.”

“My steward is perfectly capable of operating this estate without me.”  He stood up and started pacing, then stopped in front of the window.  “Why did they need to go to the parsonage?”

“To visit Mrs. de Bourgh.”  Darcy said patiently.

“She is fine, Charlotte is just fine.”  He started moving again.  “She is here to see me!  I wanted to take her on a tour of the house!  I wanted to show her the gardens, and the groves, and . . . Damn it, why do we need the Season?  I will propose!”

“Captain.”  Darcy glanced at him.  “No.”

“What do you mean, no?”  He spun and glared.  “I know that I want to marry her, she knows that I want to marry her, you, Mrs. Darcy, my mother, undoubtedly the servants know that I want to marry her, why wait?  Why live a charade of pointless courtship if, if, if the result is a foregone conclusion?   Tell me!  Answer that!”  De Bourgh ended with a flourish and stood, legs parted, arms crossed, glaring down at him.  Calmly, Darcy rose to his feet and to his full and towering height.  De Bourgh did not flinch, but he did relax his stance as he now looked up to the man with the cool blue eyes staring at him seriously. 

“Is the fencing room still equipped or has your mother changed it into a sewing parlour?”

“No, it is still available.”  De Bourgh’s arms came down.

“Good.”  Darcy opened the door to the study and started walking. 

“What are we doing?” 

“We are going to burn off this unrequited desire you have so that when Mary and the ladies return from their visit, the poor girl is not frightened off by the prospect of attaching herself for life to a raving lunatic.”  Darcy’s lips lifted in a little smile.  “How is your skill? I would imagine that you received some training?”

“Yes.”  Breathing out a long sigh, he strode along with him.  “Although I am a bit out of practice.”

“No matter, so am I.”  The men eyed each other and both laughed.