Memory: Volume 3, How Far We Have Come, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (Memory: A Tale of Pride and Prejudice) (8 page)

“You are a poor liar, Darcy.”

“As are you, de Bourgh.”  They reached the fencing room and Darcy stepped aside to allow the master to enter first. They closed the door and began to strip off their coats and shirts.  “Keep in mind that if you mark me, my wife will have your head.”

“I think that she will be after yours first.”  Tossing a foil, Darcy caught it neatly.  They assumed their stances and he said softly, “
en garde
.”

 MICHAEL DE BOURGH leaned in the doorway of the largest sitting room at Hunsford and grinned.  “How am I to write a sermon with all of this noise?  I swear it is growing louder by the moment!  I thought that ladies were gentle, quiet creatures.”

More laughter filled the room and Charlotte smiled, “Close your study door, Mr. de Bourgh, and we shall close ours.”

“Your sisters were never silent, Michael.  Surely your protests are false.”  Mrs. de Bourgh declared.  “Now shoo, leave us to our visiting.”

He shook his head.  “I will give up on my writing and go walk the glebe.  Perhaps the silence of the fields will inspire me.  Enjoy your visit, ladies.”  He smiled at Charlotte, who was brimming with happiness to have her friends around her, and set off. 

Charlotte watched him go and then looked towards the window to see him pass.  The other women looked amongst themselves and smiled until their hostess’ attention returned and noticing them, she blushed.  “I am very fortunate to have a home of my own to keep.”

“And a husband who appreciates you.”  Elizabeth laughed when Charlotte blushed anew.  “You have raised two wonderful sons, Mrs. de Bourgh.  I hope that I have such an opportunity one day.”

“Why thank you, Mrs. Darcy, although I cannot claim much influence over Peter, he was taken from me so young, with only very rare visits to assure me of his continued health.  He wrote of course, and the excitement that filled our home when a letter arrived was a joy, but it was nothing compared to waiting by the docks day after day when news that his ship was returning would arrive.  So many families would gather.”  She smiled at Mary.  “The long anticipation of once again seeing Peter was sometimes unbearable.  Only the precious words on the page remained to remind me of him.”

“I . . . I believe that I can understand that, madam.”  Mary said softly.  “Although I had no fear over his life to worry over, I . . . I grew to know precisely how many days would pass before a new letter should come, and found myself spending the appointed day awaiting the post with nearly obsessive angst.”

“She did.”  Elizabeth smiled and squeezed her hand.  “And woe to the heavens should there be a downpour or snow to delay its delivery!”

“Mary, you cursed the weather?”  Charlotte gasped.  “You?”

“Lizzy is having fun with me.”  Mary glanced at her sister.

“Believe what you wish.”  Elizabeth caught Mrs. de Bourgh’s smile and laughed.  “What stories may you tell us of your boys?”

“Oh my dear, I will not speak of them here.”  She winked at her.  “I would prefer to do so with them present.”  Her audience burst into laughter and Mary shook her head.  “Do you disapprove, Miss Bennet?”

“Do not take offence Mrs. de Bourgh, but sometimes a mother’s stories can be rather embarrassing.”  She looked up at her with apprehension.  “I hope that he . . . the captain, would not be . . .”

“I appreciate your care for him, dear.  I would never enumerate his faults before company; I would only highlight his foibles.”

“Is there a difference?”  Georgiana asked as she reached for a piece of cake.

“Of course, a fault is a mark against his character; a foible is to be laughed at.”  Elizabeth took a bite of her cake and swallowing, set down the plate and stared at it.  Mrs. de Bourgh watched her face pale. 

“Are you well, dear?”  She said softly.

“Oh, I seem to not be hungry.”  Elizabeth murmured and turned to Charlotte.  “It is wonderful, though.”  She closed her eyes.  “Would you please excuse me for a moment?”  She stood and looked towards the door. 

“I will help you, dear.”  Mrs. de Bourgh led the way into the hallway and to a washroom in the back of the house.  She stood outside of the door while Elizabeth coughed.  Mary appeared.  “She will be fine.” 

“What is wrong?  Does she need help?”  Mary stared at the door as the noises ceased. “Lizzy?”

“I will be fine in a moment, Mary.”  Elizabeth said softly. 

“I will find you some bread to chew when you return to us, dear.”  Mrs. de Bourgh called, “Do you need a towel?”

“No, there is a ewer and pitcher here, and towelling.”  She gasped and began to cough again.

“Oh Lizzy, what could be wrong?”  Mary looked to Mrs. de Bourgh, who was smiling.  “Do you know?”

“I have an idea. You came running after her.  You are very devoted to your sister.”

Mary glanced at the door.  “Lizzy and Fitzwilliam are very dear to me.  But do not think ill of Georgiana or Kitty, they wished to come as well, but Charlotte told them to stay where they were.”

“She lives here; she knows the tightness of this hallway.”  Mrs. de Bourgh watched as Mary’s brow creased again as Elizabeth’s coughs continued.  “She will be well, my dear.”  Glancing down the empty corridor, she looked back to Mary.  “My son cares for you.”  Mary’s startled expression pleased the woman.  “Surely you know that.”

“He said that he liked me.”

“Has he managed to keep it just to that?”  She laughed softly.  “And do you like him?”

Blushing, Mary nodded.  “Very much.  He is . . .” She looked up and smiled.  “He is trying so hard.”

“To do what?  Impress you?”

“No.”  Mary’s eyes lit up.  “There is no need to do that.  I mean that he is trying to live up to the position he has unexpectedly received.  He confessed to me that he still feels like a visitor at Rosings, and is rather overwhelmed whenever he returns and is reminded that he is the one in charge.  He is more comfortable on a ship, still.”

“I agree, although we have certainly made a mark on the decoration, that was more my and Anne de Bourgh’s doing than his.  In truth, all he has done is move in and learned the operation.  He has not taken ownership.”

“I understand that, I have moved from my father’s house to my sister’s.”

“So you understand Charlotte’s happiness when she was proud to have a home of her own to care for?”

“Oh yes, I do.  And I certainly understand my sister Jane’s feeling of being left in a state of not belonging anywhere, living in another woman’s home and having no purpose.”  Mary sighed and listened, then knocked.  “Lizzy?”

“Keep talking Mary, I am not presentable but I am listening.”  Elizabeth said softly.  “May I say that Fitzwilliam once remarked that Pemberley was not truly his until he married me and brought me home?”  She coughed and became silent. 

“I think that Mr. Darcy’s feelings are similar to my son’s.”  Mrs. de Bourgh smiled at the door.  “You are a clever woman, Mrs. Darcy.” 

“So I have been told.”  There was the sound of a pitcher being set down and then the door opened. 

“Oh Lizzy.”  Mary touched her pale face and stroked back her mussed hair.  “That cake did not agree with you at all!  What will Fitzwilliam say!”

“I can only imagine, but truly, must he know?  I do not wish him to worry and you know that he will.”  She smiled and saw Mrs. de Bourgh’s wink.  “Now, finish this conversation.  Mary, do you realize what the captain needs to feel at home now?”  She held her sister’s hands and watched as the blush spread over her face.  “You do know why he invited us here for Easter, do you not?”

“For me?”  She whispered.

“He wants to see you in his house.  He wants to fill up his mind with images of you in every room, and in every corner of the garden.  He wants to hear you laugh and play, he wants to see what his home would be with you as his anchor.”

“Well said, Mrs. Darcy.”  Mrs. de Bourgh nodded and turned to Mary.  “Are you up to the task, my dear?  My son is a gifted leader, strong, steadfast, loyal, but my boy is a tender-hearted soul.” 

“Just as my Fitzwilliam is.”  Elizabeth leaned against the wall. 

“He needs me to complete his home?”  Mary said with disbelief and delight.  “He needs me to be strong for him?”  The two women smiled and nodded.  “What do I do?”

“Pemberley did not intimidate you did it?”

“Pemberley was not my home, Lizzy.”

“Pemberley was not Jane’s home either, but she was uncomfortable there.”

“It is a home full of love and peace.”  Mary shook her head. 

“Why is that?”  Elizabeth prodded.

“Because you and Fitzwilliam made it that way.”  Her face lit up.  “Of course!” 

“I must visit Pemberley someday.”  Mrs. de Bourgh mused.

“You are welcome at any time.”  Elizabeth straightened.  “Now, shall we gather our sisters and return to our gentlemen?  If I know my husband, he will be weary of caring for the caged animal that is Captain de Bourgh.” 

“That sounds rather frightening.”  Mary said as they made their way back down the hallway.

“Oh my dear, I am sure that upon your appearance he will become the gentlest of beings.”  Mrs. de Bourgh smiled at Elizabeth, whose eyes were dancing.  “Mrs. Darcy seems to agree.” 

They returned to the room and Elizabeth assured everyone that she was well, and accepted the dry toast Charlotte had ordered and cautiously sipped a little tea.  When she was sure that all was going to remain in her stomach, she nodded to Mrs. de Bourgh who led the way back to Rosings.  Mrs. de Bourgh was approached by the housekeeper about dinner preparations, while Georgiana and Kitty decided to explore the gardens. 

“Come, Fitzwilliam and the captain are in the study.”  Elizabeth looked around the vast hallway.  “This way, I believe.”  She and Mary started walking when they heard the sound of men’s voices and the clash of steel.  “Aha!  We may have found them!” 

“What are they doing?”  Mary asked with concern.  “Are they fighting?”

“Oh you have heard Fitzwilliam fencing with Mr. Evans enough times this winter.”  Elizabeth smiled.  “I suspect that is what they decided to do while we were gone.” 

Following the sounds, they came to the closed door.  A servant arrived behind them carrying a tray with tankards of ale.  He nodded and opened the door, walking inside.  Darcy and de Bourgh stopped and grinned at each other, both picking up towels to wipe their sweaty faces and chests while the servant left the drinks and departed.  Darcy looked up to see Elizabeth standing in the doorway, her arms crossed, an appreciative smile on her lips, her head tilted, and her eyes roaming over his glistening skin.  Darcy, still breathing heavily, stopped dead and drank in the sight of his wife fully engaged in appreciating his form, and reacted as only a man can do.  Elizabeth’s gaze drifted downwards over the breeches clinging tightly to his thighs, and her brows rose along with his mast.  Their eyes met and the tip of her tongue appeared to moisten her lips before she smiled at him. 

“You look very healthy, Mr. Darcy.”

“I am feeling
very
healthy, Mrs. Darcy.”  He glanced at de Bourgh and saw that he was standing stock still, the towel clutched in his hand and at his side, his reaction just as pronounced, his breathing unsteady, and his body as red as a rose.  Elizabeth and Darcy both looked to see Mary staring at his naked torso, watching his chest rising and falling, and blushing a pronounced shade of pink.  Darcy’s eyes twinkled at Elizabeth’s, whose sparkled.  Without a word, she turned her sister firmly around and pulled her from the room, closing the door behind her. 

“Good Lord.”  De Bourgh whispered.  Darcy handed him a tankard and picked up his own. 

“Steady, man.”  He took a long sip and looked down at his still raging pride.  “Steady.”

“IT WAS THE MOST SILENT carriage ride I have ever experienced.”  Mr. Bennet said wearily when he sank down into his chair.  “Miss Edwards told me how Lydia has spent the past months essentially alone, but in particular the last fortnight she has truly retreated into herself.  It seems that the visit to the school by this Jessica’s sisters has made an indelible impression on the population.”  He sighed and rubbed his face.  “That girl was as silly as Lydia, a touch older, but just as indulged and neglected.  My shame for my behaviour grows by leaps and bounds.”  Looking up at Mrs. Bennet, he continued.  “I met a girl named Susan, who has been looking out for Lydia.  It is her prodding that prompted her letter.”

“Lydia has not said a word since she came home.”  Mrs. Bennet sat down and pulled out her handkerchief to dab at her eyes.  “I hardly know what to do.  She has always been so bright and cheerful.”

“Well I suspect that it will be Jane who she will wish to talk with, she received the longest letter.”  He glanced at the ceiling.  “She is with her?”

“She just went up.”  Mrs. Bennet wrung her hands.  “Oh, Mr. Bennet.  What have we done?  None of our children love us!”

“We hardly showed them much care, Mrs. Bennet.  I will be happy if they even like us.”  He sighed and closed his eyes.  “Jane loves us.  She is too good.”

Jane sat on the bed and looked up at Lydia.  “Have you heard from Jessica?”

“Just this morning.”  She walked over to her reticule and took out a letter, and handed it to Jane.  “It is not what we dreamed about at all.”

Jane opened the letter written on a scrap of dirty paper and concentrated on the closely written lines, turning the page so that she could read the words crammed into every conceivable space, then finishing, closed her eyes and fighting back the emotion she was feeling welling up in her breast, forced herself to read it through again.  At last she folded it up.  “We need to send word to her family of her location.”  She saw Lydia staring out at the garden.  “Even if she cannot return home, they can save her from the life she has found.  Her father has been searching for her?”

“Yes.”  Lydia had tears rolling down her cheeks.  “We thought that it was going to be such fun, and so romantic to run away.  We did not care what anyone thought of us.  We thought that everyone was boring and we were the ones who were right.”  She looked at the letter then at Jane.  “I thought that being with a man would be fun.  They smile and whisper and tell you how pretty you are.  I heard the girls at school talk about it.  I saw pictures.  It did not look terrible.  I really wanted to do it!  Mama told me to be pretty so that men would like me.  So they would want me to marry them.  I know that marriage means that a man would take me to his bed.  Does Mr. Lucas do those things to you?  Does it hurt?”